(a trifle)

To Mr. Derek Holser

There is a light on in the house;
The world is blue and washed in a blue mist.
Their eyes are rain and like to rain their hair.
This is a fool who bears the glasséd flame;
The iris gave its colour to their faith.
What people that they are and whence their race
Whose scrolls are like as sheets of water and whose garb
Flows down their supple limbs like streams of indigo,
Only the girls reared by Persephone can know.
And all their thoughts are heavy like dark clouds,
And all their speech like showers on dark loam;
There is a light on in the house.
When they have passed the daffodils will grow.