When she rises in the morning I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, the crumple up
LIke wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-disheveled petals.
In the window full of sunlight concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as mellow as the glory roses.