How like That Gallery You Are

How like that gallery you are where eyes invade

The rarest landscapes: in your nature is such art

That daily there I walk beneath a gold arcade

Whose gay gilt shade, good friend, is Herrick to my heart.

Bring down the mandolin, the oranges, begin

The still-life now that life be still, and death delayed.

A good south wind whips round the world her flashing fin:

Ho-ho the hills where bell-boy I past bell-buoy wade.

My love is light and so sea-laved must lightly move,

And with the wave mid-ocean perish at the start.

From lines cast deep, at last leaps love, leaps love, my love:

Fine friend, fly forth. Your quarry is my heart.