Alone in the Wind, on the Prairie
I know a seraph who has golden eyes,And hair of gold, and body like the snow.Here in the wind I dream her unbound hairIs blowing round me, that desire’s sweet glowHas touched her pale keen face, and willful mien.And though she steps as one in manner bornTo tread the forests of fair Paradise,Dark memory’s wood she chooses to adorn.Here with bowed head, bashful with half-desireShe glides into my yesterday’s deep dream,All glowing by the misty ferny cliffBeside the far forbidden thundering stream.Within my dream I shake with the old flood.I fear its going, ere the spring days go.Yet pray the glory may have deathless years,And kiss her hair, and sweet throat like the snow.