A VILLANELLE IN MAY

Oh listen to no voice but mine,
your flesh be strung for only me,
and let us dance our own design.

Love and the dance are serpentine;
but when we kiss beneath the Tree,
oh listen to no voice but mine.

The ribbons flash and intertwine
to set our lifted sapling free
and let us dance our own design
across the alien pipe and shine
of covens' belled and mirrored glee:

oh listen to no voice but mine,
though dalliance and the sun combine
to coupled music: let them be,
and let us dance our own design.

And when the coloured airs decline
and the bright morris changes key,
oh listen to no voice but mine,
and let us dance our own design.