Hypocorism
New member
Orpheus' Lament to Summer
I would not spurn your florilegia
Of lilies wilted, nor the howls of birds
That mourning reptilline belligerence
Show whimpers the most cultured words.
Your months, which are the terrace of the year
And dull millennia's best ornament,
Draw light and foliage to woods severe
Through shades of passionate content.
Long blandished by your hylomorphism,
The groves and bowers of eternity
Sway yet to sonnetry of Orpheus
Tuned to a Hypodoric key;
Octopodes of xylem grasp their cloaks
But Spring walks not again among her oaks.
I would not spurn your florilegia
Of lilies wilted, nor the howls of birds
That mourning reptilline belligerence
Show whimpers the most cultured words.
Your months, which are the terrace of the year
And dull millennia's best ornament,
Draw light and foliage to woods severe
Through shades of passionate content.
Long blandished by your hylomorphism,
The groves and bowers of eternity
Sway yet to sonnetry of Orpheus
Tuned to a Hypodoric key;
Octopodes of xylem grasp their cloaks
But Spring walks not again among her oaks.