Classic Poem

Dorothea and Theophilus

Dorothea and Theophilus
I bear a basket lined with grass.
IÔë║ am soÔë║ lightÔë║ and fairÔë║
Men are amazed to watch me pass
WithÔë║ the basket I bearÔë║,
Which in newly drawn green litter
Carries treats of sweet for bitter.

See my lilies: lilies none,┬░
None in Caesar's garden blow.
Quinces, lookÔë║, whenÔë║ not oneÔë║
Is set in any orchard; no,┬░
Not set because their buds not spring;┬░
Spring not for world is wintering.

ButÔë║ they cameÔë║ fromÔë║ the SouthÔë║,
Where winter-while is all forgot. —
The dew-bell in the mallow's mouth
IsÔë║ it quenched or notÔë║?
In starry, starry shire it grew:
WhichÔë║ is itÔë║, starÔë║ or dewÔë║? —

That a quince I pore upon?
O no it is the sizing moon.┬░
Now her mallow-row is gone┬░
In tufts of evening sky. — So soon?
Sphered so fast, sweet soul? — We see┬░
Fruit nor flower nor Dorothy.

How to name it, blessed it!
Suiting its grace with him or her ?
Dorothea — or was your writ
Served by messengerÔë║?
Your parley was not done and there!
You went into the partless air.

It waned into the world of light,
Yet made its market here as well:
My eyes hold yet the rinds and bright
Remainder of a miracle.
O this is bringing! Tears may swarm┬░
Indeed while such a wonder's warm.

Ah dip in blood the palmtree pen
And wordy warrants are flawed through.
More will wear this wand and then┬░
The warped world we shall undo.
Proconsul! — Is Sapricius near? —
I find another Christian here.