Beauty's thief

Mind is Beauty's thief, the poet takes
Golden spendthrift's trail among the blooms
Where she stands tossing silver in the lakes
And twisting bright swift threads on airy looms
Her ring the poppy snatches and the rose
With laughter plunders all her gusty plumes
He steals behind her, gathering, as she goes
Heedless of summer's end certain and soon
Of winter rattling at the door of June
When Beauty lies hand-folded, pale and still
Forsaken of her lovers and her lords
And winter keeps cold watch upon the hill
Then he lets fall his bale of colored words
At frosty midnight June shall rise in flame
Move at his magic with her bells and birds
The rose will redden as he speaks her name
He shall release earth's frozen bosom there
And with great words shall cuff the whining air.