I Find
The darkness of your face,
That darkness as of olive-trees,
That darkness of warm earth,
Once gave the whiteness of the Parthenon
Its living beauty …
Your face a wine-cup
For the blood of grapes,
Your smiles bright-weaving shadows of the vine,
Make me a wreath of them,
Give me a cup in the sunlight
Of the blood of grapes!
That darkness as of olive-trees,
That darkness of warm earth,
Once gave the whiteness of the Parthenon
Its living beauty …
Your face a wine-cup
For the blood of grapes,
Your smiles bright-weaving shadows of the vine,
Make me a wreath of them,
Give me a cup in the sunlight
Of the blood of grapes!
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