THE listless beauty of the hour
When snow fell on the apple
trees
And the
wood-ash gathered in the fire
And we faced our first
miseries.
Then the sweeping sunshine of noon
When the mountains like
chariot cars
Were
ranked to blue battle — and you and I
Counted our
scars.
And then in a strange, grey hour
We lay mouth to mouth, with
your face
Under
mine like a star on the lake,
And I covered the earth, and all
space.
The silent, drifting hours
Of morn after
morn
And night
drifting up to the night
Yet no pathway worn.
Your life, and mine, my love
Passing on and on, the
hate
Fusing closer
and closer with love
Till at length they
mate.
THE CEARNE