Can the stars
Be used again,
So constant,
Shimmering bright,
Or call upon
A shifting moon
Eclipsed by your daylight.
How many flowers open
In jubilant array,
How many winds
Will whisper
Your name to me today,
Or brush my lips
With breezes
For kisses gone astray.
I would give them
All away,
Whatever value,
For all of nature does pursue
Comparisons with you.