Wednesday, November 30, 2016

20. The Meadowland

The Meadowland

My lover’s mouth is open for my wine.
It flows o’er lips and teeth on to his tongue.
I am my lover’s and he knows he’s mine.
His love for me remains forever young.
Come to the countryside with me, my love.
Let’s find an inn where we can spend the night.
We’ll get up early with the mourning dove
before the dawn has given way to light.
Within the vineyard we’ll walk hand in hand
among the vines as they break into bud
to see the blossoms in the meadowland—
with splendid sights and smells the earth they flood.
There I will give my love to you, my groom.
Our yearning for each other there will bloom.

Meadow, Alfred Sisley, 1875

No comments:

Post a Comment