what's o'clock
119
Over his gusty body, ripe for love,
Fresh with the bursting agony of love,
And she a very distant, youthful queen.
As long as he could see them, Neron sat
Before the statues, while the light-streak crawled
From king to queen and left them in the dark.
Bit after bit he added to his dream.
He found the castle where they lived, above
A meadow of fair trees, whose flickering leaves
Chequered the placid water of a moat,
Weed-spotted, sound asleep, beneath the walls,
Except when the portcullis, clanging down,
Shattered its sky and trees to sliding planes
Of colour tipping with the tilt of waves.
Above the angry walls was gleam of grass
Shuttled with gold and white, for on a terrace
A peacock strutted between carven shields
Flanking the angles of a balustrade.
Sometimes, at night, Neron would climb the hill,
Fresh with the bursting agony of love,
And she a very distant, youthful queen.
As long as he could see them, Neron sat
Before the statues, while the light-streak crawled
From king to queen and left them in the dark.
Bit after bit he added to his dream.
He found the castle where they lived, above
A meadow of fair trees, whose flickering leaves
Chequered the placid water of a moat,
Weed-spotted, sound asleep, beneath the walls,
Except when the portcullis, clanging down,
Shattered its sky and trees to sliding planes
Of colour tipping with the tilt of waves.
Above the angry walls was gleam of grass
Shuttled with gold and white, for on a terrace
A peacock strutted between carven shields
Flanking the angles of a balustrade.
Sometimes, at night, Neron would climb the hill,
