If a frosty little leaf my heart were
Where in the woods it lived a sheltered life
From grief remote, where frozen hearts are sure,
But there became a glimmer in your eye,
I hope you take it gently by the stem
And, making your way down to the river,
Pondering the lives of leaves and men,
Twirl it so the sun can make it glitter.
And if you do, don’t think that I’ll regret
The stain upon your palm, this heart of mine.
It’s better, now, though melted—dark and wet,
For having known the joy it was to shine.
So leave it drying on a log, and say:
“My hand was but too warm for it to stay.”