Time
The name of an unsought future comes to this young girl,
Soundless and formless,
With power gathered from her uncertainty.
At first she compares it to a flower unfolding,
An image her innocence approves,
Yet maybe it is like a sweet and silver wine
A spiny season of the moon may turn to poison,
And they will change together, she and her first love,
And the moon will curtail the seasons of her every love:
As the colors of one love tint all other colors,
So the first new tentative kisses cannot cancel
All her former ecstasies and their attendant sorrows.