Worship this world of watercolor mood <br />in glass pagodas hung with veils of green <br />where diamonds jangle hymns within the blood <br />and sap ascends the steeple of the vein. <br /> <br />A saintly sparrow jargons madrigals <br />to waken dreamers in the milky dawn, <br />while tulips bow like a college of cardinals <br />before that papal paragon, the sun. <br /> <br />Christened in a spindrift of snowdrop stars, <br />where on pink-fluted feet the pigeons pass <br />and jonquils sprout like solomon's metaphors, <br />my love and I go garlanded with grass. <br /> <br />Again we are deluded and infer <br />that somehow we are younger than we were.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/april-aubade/
