Poem: The Piper's song to the maiden

 Have you perceived

fair maid, 

the dulcet hues of summer? 

When sweetness is ripe in the sun

and the enchanted trees sway

supple and suppliant, 

bending, bending 

to the breeze? 

Have you felt, 

fair maid, 

the wildest desire 

to dance , freely and without restraint

on the purple heather, 

dancing, dancing by yourself? 

Have you known, 

fair maid, 

the moods 

of sensual ease, 

recumbent in the shade of elm, 

drowsy with the pleasure of its rustling leaves,

swaying, swaying into sleep? 

Have you dreamt,

fair maid, 

a summer's dream, 

and found it at the rainbow's end, 

suddenly alive 

laughing, laughing with brazen joy? 

''No'', said the maiden,

with scornful ease--

''I have no time

for play; 

Take your pipes, your songs, 

and go away.''  

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from Burnt Offerings, 1996