Poetry Archives

Eunice forgets to eat, watching their faces
 Flickering in the wind-blown candle’s shine.
Blue-coated lackeys tiptoe to their places,
 And set out plates of fruit and jugs of wine.
The table glitters black like Winter ice.
 The Dartle’s rushing, and the gentle clash
    Of blossomed branches, drifts into her ears.
 And through the casement sash
She sees each cherry stem a pointed slice
Of splintered moonlight, topped with all the spice
    And shimmer of the blossoms it uprears.