Eglantine (Ode of Virtue)

The ebon night touched soft my virgin glade

Atop narcissus’ fire, in gentle snow

While oaken arms caressed the eveningshade

As quietly as stars put forth their show

A delphic auspice where I blind unfold

Oracular lament for winds of storm

O’ heart refrain; what glitters is not gold

Tho' Lily weeps in vain for summers warmth

As darkened sky receds to lighter hue

These shadows dissapear with morning sun

My bleeding-heart from counterfeit, be true

And mindful that thy rose come not undone.

Thus pristine hold, my garden's sweetest prize

Until betrothed to bloom in paradise.