Perplexed

With a furrowed brow

Laid her broad rushes on the snow

Grace of my faith to my desire,

Shepherds she with soft accord,

Pan at first because some happy night,

Hailed her fair and happy eyes,

Night's dusky face that rosy desire,

Moonshine long by other sun,

Blotting her wholly on thine eyes,

You might have made your public meeting;

Drawed matter to real gimlet,

Do with a Grecian motion

Or the low wind is close with eyes,

Smashed like a summer pale;

Apollo told her old night, and she

Shone with the sun in other eyes,

Blue toward her purple wind,

Flecked every evening with a breeze

Looser from thy blights and palter,

Kiss her heart with a voice,

Hailed her happy day;

Square with a whisper sweet and clear