To grow in the ferns,
Lull them all asleep
Lightest touch
Soft in the foliage.

Quiet, so glimmering,
You and the Devil’s dancers
That by starlight
He calls—and the woods sing for
In the wine of daylight.

The wave
Of her long blue hair;
The flowers that you picked
Entwine her thin arms
Dropping pollen like quotation marks that fall
Sighing around her, through her lightness
To where the stars are sleeping.

In the meantime,
On the horizon
I shall let the wind
Brush free, held only with lightness
Strings of thistledown
With soft little shivers
It finds you…

But all could be endless
As I was floating down
In the long violet thickening
Stronger than shouts and lightnings and
To know the skies,
The spun-silk twilight,
I hung there.