I am alone and sad, as the soft gold evening dims ...
Through the open window I hear the downy fall
of clammy flowers in a crystal bowl ...
- And I do not know if I shall love her,
in the quiet and lightsome movement of her limbs,
and in her goodness in my strange existence ...
I'm sad, and I hear her quiet footsteps going,
and her soft humming, in the garden, down below.
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