Fact
Sea-roses blowing on a high, white cliff
Rayed out above their leaves, bent by a whiff
Of salty wind. White snowdrops over snow.
The colour of a field where violets grow.
The tingling rings of honeysuckle bines.
Cloud shadows drawing over Apennines.
Young paper birches, with their lustred stems
Brightening old woods . . . . But similes like these
Are stock in trade with all poets. If you please,
Therefore, we'll put aside such brummagems
And merely state a proven certainty,
Which is that you are fine exceedingly
And all that matters in Heaven or Earth to me.
Rayed out above their leaves, bent by a whiff
Of salty wind. White snowdrops over snow.
The colour of a field where violets grow.
The tingling rings of honeysuckle bines.
Cloud shadows drawing over Apennines.
Young paper birches, with their lustred stems
Brightening old woods . . . . But similes like these
Are stock in trade with all poets. If you please,
Therefore, we'll put aside such brummagems
And merely state a proven certainty,
Which is that you are fine exceedingly
And all that matters in Heaven or Earth to me.
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