Under vague silver moonlight
The trees are lovely and ghostly,
In the pale blue of the night
There are few stars to see.
...
Secret and wise as nature, like the wind
Melancholy or light-hearted without reason,
And like the waxing or the waning moon
Ever pale and lovely: you are like these
...
When I seek the world through
For images of you,
Though apple-blossom is glad
...
Half-awake I walked
A dimly-seen sweet hawthorn lane
Until sleep came;
...
Daisies are over Nyren, and Hambledon
Hardly remembers any summer gone:
And never again the Kentish elms shall see
Mynn, or Fuller Pilch, or Colin Blythe.
...
Chestnut candles are lit again
For the dead that died in spring:
Dead lovers walk the orchard ways,
And the dead cuckoos sing.
...