When the sun sets low in the red-green sky,
When the breeze blows gently o’er the Earth,
When moonlight filters through the purple mist of night,
Then yearns my heart for you, afar, my love.
Then think I of your smiling face, your eyes.
And in the ripple of a silent stream,
And music of the Spring’s awakening sounds
I hear your voice. And in the pale red rose,
Embracing crystal dewdrop, are your lips.
But e’en with so divine a form as this
A strange perplexity enthrals my mind.
Think hard e’er you bewitch me with a kiss.
Take point by point and study what you find.
Remember all is fair in Love and War;
To touch could mean to part for evermore.

© Michael J.Mason 1972