But faint, she rises from the waxing gloom
On scalloped half shell barque, borne on grey seas;
Waves riled by Zephyrs’ breath unto a spume,
Delivering her to shore with graceful ease.
Awaiting on the sands, the Horae Spring,
Holds forth a flowered robe to cloak her form,
On fainter breath, sweet virgin Aura sings,
As roses ‘round her golden tress are blown.
So bright she shines from off that mythic shore,
A sight more lustrous than the brightest star;
With skin of alabaster swept so pure,
No vision born of earth could yet compare.
A lock of gold transgresses there her thighs;
Transfixed I stand ‘neath Botticelli skies.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.