To Vouletti Poem by Mercedes de Acosta

THERE is not a leaf grown,
Not a breeze that's blown,
Not a sweet fragrant tree,
That is not you to me.

In the sunlight I feel your smile,
In the moonlight, the whole long while,
I feel the pressure of your hand,
And feeling this I understand.

I understand all sacred things,
The depths of life, the secret wings
That carry beyond the dreary way,
Turning dark to light, and night to day.

All things fine, and straight, and true,
I know better because of you;
While your sweetness is like a warm fresh shower,
And your face and soul like a sun-kissed flower.