The Green Door
from “Rodomontades”
Here in the May we danced on violets
And blew off golden bubbles. Ah, my love,
How shall I name the sorrows and regrets
I pluck, and the black drink I press thereof?
Now you dream deeply, wise in death’s great lore;
I lean above you where the crickets sing,
And fumble the dumb latch of the green door —
You of the Maytime, lovely, wantoning.
~~
C.F. MacIntyre (1890-1967)
from Poetry, May 1920
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
C.F. MacIntyre biography
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