Bosca Dubh

Reach with your whiter hands to me
Some crystal of the spring;
And I about the cup shall see
Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but this–
To th’ glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turn’d to wine.

To the Water-Nymphs Drinking at the Fountain by Robert Herrick

“Play Days” by Harriet Frishmuth, Como Conservatory, St. Paul

Now see these:

• The Pigeon Who Came To Tea from Black and White Dreaming
• Destiny holds from Graciform
• 417 from Edmund Leveckis