Spring Thing
Quintessence of the destiny of Spring,
A woman- twenty-two- is sure the thing.
Her scent\'s a palace in Nirvana\'s sun,
Undoing sin that I shall leave undone;
The majesty within her hair\'s bouquet
Admonishes mankind its feet of clay;
Medusa\'s antithetic to the eyes
That bargain for my conscience when she cries;
And cherry-red the lips that kiss my cheek,
Departing from the courtship of the meek,
She seeks instead sequoia trees to climb-
A puppet to her juvenescent time-
The mighty will possess her blooming love
That waters underneath and thrives above.