Beloved

Beloved, breathe, bring
Iris the goddess of sight
To the language rainbows ring,
And ringing cleanse my night:
Lover, goddess, light

To the while mill wheel
Sailing the green canal
Of arching swans’ sweet wells,
Wanting, I grow weary
Where swain and maiden marry,
And Holland rings its bells.

And Holland has its hells:
So rainbow lips are kissed;
And parasols play mist
On silos and sailing cells.