by Duncan Forbes

Like unbewailing ghosts transfigured soft
by winter's brittle fingers,these bright shafts
with tap'ring undulations hang aloft
the shadow-dappled roof which they engraft
In thirst I plucked one, fondling lucent clefts
with my awakened tongue, as even now
they melt to cascade pearls so soon bereft
of that sustaining tension grace bestowe.
Such gorgeous figures with their prismy glow
seem from all love detached 'til Spring's reprieve;--
would I were as a sculpture formed from snow
and vernal pulse could thaw the forms my brain

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