gallas13

i should have thought
in a dream you would have brought
some lovely, perilous thing,
orchids piled in a great sheath,
as who would say (in a dream),
"i send you this,
who left the blue veins
of your throat unkissed."

why was it that your hands
(that never took mine),
your hands that i could see
drift over the orchid-heads
so carefully,
your hands, so fragile, sure to lift
so gently, the fragile flower-stuff--
ah, ah, how was it

you never sent (in a dream)
the very form, the very scent,
not heavy, not sensuous,
but perilous--perilous--
of orchids, piled in a great sheath,
and folded underneath on a bright scroll,
some word:

"flower sent to flower;
for white hands, the lesser white,
less lovely of flower-leaf,"

or

"lover to lover, no kiss,
no touch, but forever and ever this."

-h.d.

i originally had a good deal to say, but it's tough following that.