WHEN she rises in the morning      I linger to watch her;
     She spreads the bath-cloth underneath¹ the window
     And the sunbeams catch her
     Glistening white on the shoulders,
     While down her sides the mellow²
     Golden shadow glows as
     She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
     Sway like full-blown yellow
     Gloire de Dijon roses.
 
     She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
     Glisten as silver, they crumple³ up
     Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
     For the sluicing⁴ of their rain-dishevelled petals⁵.
     In the window full of sunlight
     Concentrates her golden shadow
     Fold on fold, until it glows as
     Mellow as the glory roses.
 
      ICKING
ROSES ON THE BREAKFAST
     TABLE
 
     JUST a few of the roses we gathered from the Isar
     Are fallen, and their mauve-red petals on the
        cloth
............