Will I Not See The Dawn’s Rosy Fingers?

Photo by Nuno Obey: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-row-boat-on-body-of-water-127160/

Will I not see the Dawn’s rosy fingers?
Will I not kiss the maiden’s marble breast?
Nor sniff what fresh love on wet scent lingers
Off the full-blown petals in romance dressed?
Such conceits did breathe life in a past,
Gifting beauty-poor tongues a taste of bliss;
Then o’ercharged, the same soft tools could not last,
For present use fixes a thought amiss.
But when the moon doth wax her fabled horns,
And gives a glow to ice the common guise,
In her liquid maze my beloved adorns
The old spheres with the new night of her eyes.
For love’s warm touch, unspoken, still renews
In our sung-stale rose inimitable hues.