To One Woman

I spread my cloak between you and the earth-

A careless gesture which had caused some mirth

Aforetimes. Other feet had trod it under,

Small boots had cut its lining into bits,

And itching heels had ground their print in its

Old finery. Your eyes were full of wonder.

I spread my cloak before you in the mire,

That trampled wind-torn cloak of my desire.

Despite old rents, wine-stains in double measure,

I saw the gold threads lace the cloth like new;

For I was looking at the cloak, not you.

Then I glanced up to wait upon your pleasure.

I spread my cloak beneath you on the ground.

Your eyes were sabers flashing, you kneeled down.

You kneeled upon that splattered velvet, turning

Into a fire-mist as your great eyes shut.

And as we drifted, I knew nothing but

The whiteness of your knees and your lips burning.