TO A FRIEND, WITH A GIFT OF TRUFFLES IN THE SPRING

When the bright planet which divides the hours
Returns to dwell with Taurus in his house,
There falls a virtue from his burning brows
That paints the world with green and silver showers;
And more than gleam of grass and grace of flowers
His golden glances vehemently arouse:
Down in the cold dark womb of earth he glows
With new life and with sudden restless powers.
So that such fruits as these I send arise:
And even so does she, that is the sun
Of her sweet sex, moving her brilliant eyes
Upon me, cause Love's counsel to be done
In thought, act, word ... but to my soul denies
Forever Spring's compassionate benison.