I
Thick-flowered is the trellis
That hides our joys
From prying eyes of malice
And all annoys,
And we lie rosily bowered.
Through the long afternoons
And evenings endlessly
Drawn out, when summer swoons
In perfume windlessly,
Sounds our light laughter,
With whispered words between
And silent kisses.
None but the flowers have seen
Our white caresses--
Flowers and the bright-eyed birds.