Meet me not
by the light of day
let the fever and fret
pass its way-
meet me then
where none would see
us and I'll open my heart
to you and tell my story
love has a strange tendency
it asserts what it should be
the day mars its beauty
the night is tender and holy
meet me when you are ready
I'll be under that willow-tree
waiting for the words you will say to me
come then, like a fairy--come, set me free.
* after John Clare, Edward Thomas, Christina Rossetti and the Bronte Sisters'