Green into Grey

When the clouds

Fell onto the hill with the trees,

And they were sinking,

Sinking;

I thought of you.

Those still heads

Belied their stirrings in the murk;

They were swimming,

Swimming;

I was thinking of you.

All day long

Shadows mutely threading that depth,

And they were ghostly,

Ghostly;

I was remembering.

Then, when the sun

At last tore the mist from the trees

They were gleaming,

Gleaming;

And I dreamt of you.