Helen of Troy And Other Poems (60)

 A Fantasy     Her voice is like clear waterThat drips upon a stone In forests far and silentWhere Quiet plays alone.     Her thoughts are like the lotusAbloom by sacred streams Beneath the temple archesWhere Quiet sits and dreams.     Her kisses are the rosesThat glow while dusk is deep In Persian garden closesWhere Quiet falls asleep.