The Love-Orchard
Three trees — he calls that ‘orchard’. Undergrowth
Is rich with rodents, little shrews. It heaps
Itself upon itself. And there they both
Arrived, in his dream, when he slept there, tired
And hidden — the girl in the white dressing-gown,
The tall kimono-girl, and both lay down
Beside him there, for they were also tired.
They watched the leaves, like yellow butterflies
Swarming the globe. The dream sang, ‘Six eyes, six eyes’.
And the dream sings, the dream lies, the dream weeps.
‘And from each nearest side,’ the dream commands,
‘Take each girl’s lovely hand, and kiss their hands.’
The dream is perfect waking. The dream sleeps.
Mistakenly, he kissed his own cold hands.
Page(s) 23
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