Yours To Reap

And who is this woman, that you should Give both heart and soul away; this rare beauty Who has, you say, what none others Have to give (for both forever and a day)? Graceful shoulders, arms like stems Flowered soles from French gardens, Fragrant, living like the queen Of nature wild, no mortal sin. A child one moment, nymph the next, Her throat vexing, breasts a test Swanlike legs, beside lagoons For one touch you'd gladly swoon Mortal door to human life Her marshes damp, creation rife, Her breath breathes flowers, half asleep- Fields of poppies, yours to reap.