The Spell

WHEN I first drew Eros down

From the skies and there bade

Him enter the endless brown

Of which your eyes are made

I could barely imagine how

That midnight spell I cast

By way of gods that rarely bow

Would forge such a love to last

Or what jewels of happy bliss

Lay in store for I and Thou

When each and every kiss

Is like a rose upon the bough

© Troy Southgate, 12.XI.24