Wedding Gifts...

If I could, I would gather for you — if I could —
the whole world in a single armful,
and crumble it, song upon song,
at your feet, my dark one.

I would wake the lilies to shepherds' tunes
to dance at your feast,
set the hills astir, sit April down,
and let him doze upon your arms.

I would set the myrtle branching, drug the breeze,
and send strolling over your body
weddings, and trilling nights, and a star,
and make them drunk on your name.

And I would call to a morning star, beckoning
from the window of paradise,
to hang for you a swing of light —
fly on it and sing!

And the moon — that one behind Sannine,
so puffed up with himself —
I would point him toward you and ask him: guess,
is it you who rises in his mind?

I would have the canary that neighbors my window
spin you a ribbon —
what colors of thread... what weaving! —
streaked from the dawn.

I would heap you up baskets of roses,
some full-blown and some in bud,
and from summer's trousseau a skirt,
and a sash, of blossom.