When she alone drinks silver gray glowing
Clouds, sky, stars in silhouettes of mountains,
In sweet pure solitude, his joy brimming
Over the chalice with wine from fountains
Of fancy and words of all creation,
She thinks she can walk these hours with shadows.
Will you storm in with loaming seduction
And rain bleak anguish outside her windows
To obscure her absorption of beauty?
She can't taste honeyed poison from nectar
And consume myths in search of ecstasy.
Shall she say that reckless path is better
Then season's steady course of solemn sense,
The faithful reminder of imprudence?