It was because the night was in her hair,
Because I heard the forest in her sighs,
I held her fair.
She came upon me ’neath the huddled eaves,
She walked beside me in the maze of men—
Her sadness sadness of a wood that grieves,
Her smile the sun again.
Her voice was like the whispering of trees,
Her laughter like the tinkle of a rill;
Her cheeks blushed roses, roses such as these