You're prettier than a tree Nonchalant beauty alone Up the bare hill Reposes in the golden Beams lightly warm and free to placate the moody wind in the abode of leams far from the thirsty rill and the doggedly crow and all of it I can imagine to own Far in the abandoned land Beyond that bare hill Where a lake mimics tranquility A womb of life laden and still Mirrors as your calm beauty And all of it I can see From my dormer window From a portrait of me A sketch unframed, unfinished On an easel, fancifully colored Waits frailly thy brush and hand To accomplish my metamorphosis To achieve thy miraculous guesses Of the unity of pure whiteness And colors of passionate kisses.