Jervis McEntee, "The Hudson River Valley," c. 1874
Not sky-clad, but almost: washed with white gold from head to foot in the weak winter light. We lay dovetailed, watching the sun rise and kiss us both, stars settling under the cloud cover. Were we ever that young, then—will we ever be so young again? What they know about focus, those image-makers, won’t help them see: though we dim with age, my beloved and I; so radiant within our jeweled bokeh.