  TO ANITA FOCKE Charmed into silence lay The forest, dimly lit; No wind that summer day Moved the least leaf of it; No choric branches stirred Its calm profound and deep, Nor voice of any bird, But silence dreamed like sleep. Like dew upon the grass It fell upon my soul, Loosed it to soar, and pass Beyond the stars' control. Vague memories it woke, Shapes far too frail for touch; And then the silence broke, Lest I should learn too much. |
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