Dialogue. - Poem by peter adeleke
PETER: My maiden, with thy cornflower-blue gown,
Rise, when lifting yellow-fogs; filtering down,
Upon great elms in a small patch of wood;
Carv'd in jasmine filigree, where birds brood.
PEACE: I'd rise, like a budding plants on dewy ground,
And like wild 'range flames, clip-clipping o'er mound,
Star-like knotted flowers of fragrant scent;
Under the moon's bright-white waxing crescent.
PETER: When garlands are streaming down the knoll's
And the sun leaves the day in dusk to rest;
Be with me, in early signs of the spring,
With thy royal heart, filled with balmy zing.
PEACE: Upon the stepping-stones, with me, O dance
With thy short-quick steps, soothing countenance;
And to the green-coated virgin festoon,
'neath the ash-stars, the children of the moon.
PETER: Let our love be seen, like a round-rainbow,
Over the shapeless mountains; high and low,
Let our echoes, shred a seasoned timber,
As we sing sweet songs hither and thiter.
PEACE: And I would hold thy wide-embracing hand,
So soften, pleasand like a grain of sand;
Feel my red-lips, embrace my lofty frame,
Cleanse the sloth on my brow, and praise my name. THE END.
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