You tiny flames of blue, Whose naive barbaric hue On grey rock-slope, Seem like the sky let through A painted window new, Grant me your hope! I weave thin coronets, Slim madrigalettes, Loose coronals of rhyme, For you, whose blossoming Turns summer into spring, Defeating Time. Where 'gainst the frozen snows, Rosy blue, each one glows Amid sparse grass: Like young girls with tossed hair Ring-dancing; O, from there I would not pass! |