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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Tie
Work rating: Low

Coloured like Atlantic wave
 To whose curve the bright air gave
 Splendour, and the unfathomed blue
 Mystery of nameless hue;
 If to others you but shine
 As a plait of silken twine,
 In your rich threads live for me
 Chosen hours of Cicely.
 Here her fingers have inwrought
 Fancies of her changing thought,
 Sometimes smooth as running stream,
 Sudden now in wayward gleam,
 Reverie at some instant broken
 (Look, the pretty gap that`s token):
 Dear to me because you came
 Not mechanically tame
 But with impulses anew
 Quickened, as the colour grew,
 Out of laughter or surprise
 Shining from her lifted eyes,
 Hovering fears without a cause
 Soothed in some enchanted pause,
 Or those silences that sing
 When happy thoughts go wandering.
 Here her forehead earnest bent
 O`er her busy hands` intent,
 And the wavering threads reply
 With a frolic mutiny.
 O in you she wrought so much
 As my fingers thrill to touch.
 Round my neck, a blue charm, lie
 Breathing thoughts of Cicely.
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