Midday's Reverie

I couldn't being helped but to watch your eyes
Of the most common color of the varied arrays
Displayed by nature, brown as the ever falling leaves
Something was in those light spheres, particular ways.

The light of a son of Apollo stole a reflex
As if the triangle could have reached
Performing Nature's whole display
Of white, green, aquamarine.

Not even the richest fountain or a flossy rainbow
Could reach the powerful tormento
Of seeing them and still, lay without them
As in a midday's ethereal reverie.

And the nocturnal whistle begins again
through the mention of thy happy jade
Nevertheless that acquaintance will never proceed
as a rainbow in a reverie.