My mind ambled in strange arbors
How faintly my heart throbs

Here she comes across the trellised walk
Afraid my beloved Circe will glare

Beneath the bowers there’s no place to hide
The yellow bells warn with trumpets mute

Must I face without looking her in the eye
For discomfited poise and limpid eyes betray

I have erred but not too much I think
Turn away, be brave some other day

Eddie Roa

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saturday-morning-12/