Alan Seeger (Алан Сигер)

Thirty Sonnets. 12. Sonnet 12. Like as a dryad, from her native bole

Like as a dryad, from her native bole
Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge,
To a slow river at whose silent verge
Tall poplars tremble and deep grasses roll,
Come thou no less and, kneeling in a shoal
Of the freaked flag and meadow buttercup,
Bend till thine image from the pool beam up
Arched with blue heaven like an aureole.
See how adorable in fancy then
Lives the fair face it mirrors even so,
O thou whose beauty moving among men
Is like the wind's way on the woods below,
Filling all nature where its pathway lies
With arms that supplicate and trembling sighs.

1. Tithonus
2. Sonnet 9. Well, seeing I have no hope, then let us part
3. Thirty Sonnets. 6. Sonnet 6. Give me the treble of thy horns and hoofs
4. Sonnet 6. OH, YOU are more desirable to me
5. Thirty Sonnets. 8. Sonnet 8. Oft as by chance, a little while apart

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