Far from Triassic forests, in the glare
Of that gigantic Sun that warmed strange seas,
And continents of vast immensities,
Trees rose two hundred feet into the air,
Huge conifers almost beyond compare,
Their amber saps trapped ants and flies and fleas,
Mosquitoes, spiders and odd honey bees,
And caught these ancient insects unaware.
Is not our love, my dear, like such as these,
A pretty piece of jewelry in the hand,
Like some porcelain from the Japanese,
A kiln-dried urn they polished in the sand?
So very pretty and full of allure,
Our amber love dead as the dinosaur.