HELENA TO HERMIA
(FOR WINIFRED MORGAN-BROWN)
Throw up the cinders, let the night wear through
And all the dear accustomed things be said
Ere up the sleepy stair-case I and you
Take our warm ways to bed.
Then let us loose our hands’ reluctant hold
Lest the uneasy dawn behind dim groves
Stir the still leaves and any hint of cold
Blow on our loves.