Classic Poem

You remind me, sweeting,
Of the glow,
Warm and pure and fleeting,
— Blush of apple-blossoms —
On cloud-bosoms,
When the sun is low.

Like a golden apple,
'Mid the far
Topmost leaves that dapple
Stretch of summer blue —
There are you,
Sky-set like a star.

Fearful lest I bruise you,
How should I
Dare to reach you, choose you,
Stain you with my touch?
It is much
That you star the sky.

Why should I be climbing,
So to seize
All that sets me rhyming —
In my hand enfold
All that gold
Of Hesperides?

I would not enfold you,
If I might.
I would just behold you,
Sigh and turn away,
While the day
Darkens into night.