Shades that deck the dusky sky,
That changes hue
With every breeze that billows by,
Change less than you.
Its colors ever-changing;
Its tides so vastly ranging,
And still they change far less than Clayre should do.
It’s me alone she loves by night,
But then by day,
When lovers lure her supple sight,
She’s borne away.
Her straying glance can gash apart
The chambers of my steady heart;
So, my inconstant Clayre, what would you say?
Your eyes, no doubt, possess with grace
Their fickle stare,
Give magic to your maiden face,
And still a lesser man might trade
Such beauty for a love that stayed,
For all the silken strands of all your hair.
But I, my Love, see only you
And could not cease
To love those eyes that thrill my soul,
yet yield no peace.
Their fever, like the blushing flowers
Left swaying in the sun for hours,
Gives rise to streams of sighs that still increase.
Your way, I know, no prayer nor plea
Could take away;
No more could I deny the sea
Its surge and sway.
As long as your mood ever ranges
To a love, as one love never changes;
Just as long as no thing ever changes
Your love for me.
Featured in New Lyre Summer 2022