She with a sigh that, open wide,
Held the blue of the sky in the grey of her eyes,
Stared like a child at all the birds
As they perfectly turned like a page in the paper.
And I was the white and yellow fire
That she held in her hand and kept at her side.
Away so the winds old wandering fingers
Would see us, one thing, and not come between us.
She with her hand, that holding mine,
Held me closer and I
Watched her beautifully smile.