  Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept To the tumult of the street. They held the blue, Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept Furtively on white bellies through the dew, To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes Burned glittering with desire: until the horn Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees With winey gold, and walked upon the corn; And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees. |
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