Did you never know -- how much you loved me,
that night, with those prone rolling hazes
around us -- the ones entrapped in such dim,
salubrious air? Your charms, your smiles, and your
reddening cheeks -- all are the ones that flocked into
my mind. I was enthralled, I was flattered!
But you were too pure and fresh-hearted, I admit,
untouched like the faint showering rain; and its gay entourage
as though in a singular dream in the moonlight
-- but frowning again, again, and all over its wings
at the alarming torch of the morning sun.
Full of hesitation was your soul, and affirmative instinct --
but unsullied as my own unripe grace, and eloquent
seriousness -- you were but too pure, too pure to know.

Fate is a wind, and when the snow did fall again
I could not help but smiling at that memory --
with just a shaded tint of plain curiosity!
Memory of you -- so precious; and duly monstrous
amidst those roaring vapours, and gales -- of the sky.
It’s our secret, you know; but as I gazed into you again
in this serene morning walk --
I suddenly knew what it means -- my dear, my dear.