You And Yellow Air

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I DREAM of an old kissing-time
  And the flowered follies there;
In the dim place of cherry-trees,
  Of you, and yellow air.

It was an age of babbling,
  When the players would play
Mad with the wine and miracles
  Of a charmed holiday.

Bewildered was the warm earth
  With whistling and sighs,
And a young foal spoke all his heart
  With diamonds for eyes.

You were of Love's own colour
  In eyes and heart and hair;
In the dim place of cherry-trees
  Ridden by yellow air.

It was the time when red lovers
  With the red fevers burn;
A time of bells and silver seeds
  And cherries on the turn.

Children looked into tall trees
  And old eyes looked behind;
God in His glad October
  No sullen man could find.

Out of your eyes a magic
  Fell lazily as dew,
And every lad with lad's eyes
  Made summer love to you.

It was a reign of roses,
  Of blue flowers for the eye,
And the rustling of green girls
  Under a white sky.

I dream of an old kissing-time
  And the flowered follies there,
In the dim place of cherry-trees,
  Of you, and yellow air.

© John Shaw Neilson