Mary Robinson

Sonnet 12. Now, O’er the Tesselated Pavement

Now, o’er the tessellated pavement strew
Fresh saffron, steep’d in essence of the rose,
While down yon agate column gently flows
A glitt’ring streamlet of ambrosial dew!
My Phaon smiles! the rich carnation’s hue,
On his flush’d cheek in conscious lustre glows,
While o’er his breast enamour’d Venus throws 
Her starry mantle of celestial blue!
Breathe soft, ye dulcet flutes, among the trees
Where clust’ring boughs with golden citron twine; 
While slow vibrations, dying on the breeze,
Shall soothe his soul with harmony divine!
Then let my form his yielding fancy seize,
And all his fondest wishes, blend with mine.