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.
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