To love gently I came on
Like sunlight in the hurly-burnly
Of winter! My arms were then
Warm, but trembling
To the lack of force
With thrust of honest intention
Blurred while the wintry trees
Stood tucked away breathless
Behind the cool sad homes!
What my love bespoke, several
Times earlier, came on to mind;
So I drew nigh with something
Precious like a huntsman!
A star I gathered I thought
With the love remaining in doubt
Or drift, when I beheld a mere
Horrible foot-print on her trail!
I less know what now inside
A heart remains of youth
And passion other than black
Holes of desperation and anguish!
To this, the cool sad homes are
Witnesses speaking or testifying
Nothing in their devotion to the
Season or the well guarded truth!