PETER: My maiden, with thy cornflower-blue gown,
Rise, when lifting yellow-fogs; filtering down,
Upon great elms in a small patch of wood;
...
O Alade, most beautiful and fair,
With an eye, like the mustard seed;
...
The norm of the sky, the hue of the day,
When the morning wakens with summer's ray,
O remember, the fireflies' silvery light;
...
My dear one, O awake from thy cold-sleep,
Like an opening rose in a summer's call,
...
I gazed 'pon the sun of the
day,
That sells a wicked ray,
...
After passing through the flames of failure,
We would widely wave a victory's flag;
...
In fragile sleep, minds lost to nightmares' flight,
On the pillow of darker-griefs; last night,
...