O heart beloved, I mean to show you how
The red autumnal stretches of the trees
In crystal twilight, ere the black ponds freeze,
Would but reflect your stillness, were I now
To tell you things a man’s life most conceals:
And next to say that what the autumn is
To you, winter would be to me. And this
Seems all that any simile reveals.
IX.
When marble wears the touch of Grecian hands,