Brides

I like to look at soft young brides,

And know that they are warmed and fed,

And, if grieving, comforted.

I like to think of their delight

In day and night,

And all the sweet surprises of

Their waking love.

SONNET

Lovers, stir not the bright pool of your love,

Nor throw a stone to watch the ripples play,

Nor cast small twigs afloat, nor from above

Shake down loose leaves to make the surface gay;

Nor yet from pique or curiosity

Make acorn boats and send them sailing out,

Boats full of hungry questionings to see

If they will bump each other. Do not shout

To hear if there are echoes; but be still,

And let your pool wait quietly in the sun

Reflecting patient things-the sky, the hill,

And growing trees for your delightful one.

And it will lie as brimming and as deep

As summer oceans, and as kind as sleep.

Dorothy Aldis