Grecian Dreams

The Oread of the rainbow glen
fixes me in charcoal stares,
those emberous whirligigs of fires
twin pixies of warm desires;
limpid, ask the Actaeon hounds,
"why his scars precede his wounds ?"
Her lips with Restoration blest,
then soft,trace the fevered brow,
.wetly, wake me with a start,
tender, tug the strings of heart,
pull me 'neath a hyacinth tree
and bring the Narcissus out in me.........