A touch of bitter along with the bright,
A green undertone becomes overtone
When that certain bitter comes to light,
Drawing green images below the foam.
But for one who attends it is also sweet,
Emerging, as it were, from the yellow bright,
So that youth and age seem to meet
As if one were day, the other night.
And so, one might imagine a sunset,
Or a scene, not of “youth beneath the trees”,
Eternally present, beyond time’s net,
But of an ever-bright, darkening sea:
Sounding, indeed, for the “sensual ear”,
Yet tuning the spirit better to hear.