The Garden of Proserpine

Here in the crown of the woods, where lust declines, and from the brown cones the stems sprawl, lies the bridal bed of the dew-white intertwined. It is gathered and lifted by joys so small.

‘Mid the petals abound the suns set free, ‘neath the white lilies of shuddering reins, embraced in green wings over all the tree; it recalls to our hearts the silent chains.

What of life in the woods? Every vision burns, the snows that fade to mask white on the hills. And the stretch of a valley lust for returns, where all findings are nourished, and even the shrills, echo not forgotten joys from below; as we wander together life into dreams, where each bower we crown will throb with the flow.

• Dante Gabriel Rossetti