At Five o'clock

Fair Lady Rose, round whom black-coated bees
Make murmurous humming all the afternoon,—
Thou dost belong to the soft, summer ease
Of purple islands, where the southern seas
Break on the shore with soft beguiling rune.

Lands fair as the far-famed Hesperides
Should be thy home, O Lady of the June!
And thou shouldst pour, instead of cups like these,
Some magic draught, which to the subtle lees
Thy slaves should quaff, and praise thee all in tune

To playing of such melodies as please
Fair ladies' ears, and win for Love love's boon:
And sweet, beneath the gently-drooping trees,
Should be the tender whisper of the breeze,
And time should pause for thee at golden noon.