See, Dear, the poplars tremble. They are very tall,
They stand like pillars against the darkling sky,
And over the little lake their shadows fall....
See, through the gloom, the great white swans glide by.
If you can love this little, why not all?
Ah! brooding mouth that never will tell me why....
II
Oh, it is still, out here, under the starry glow:
Your lips to mine you give, and my hand is in yours,
And your body is mine if I wish it ... and yet, I know