  I wonder if the wildrose knows I love you,— All the festivals of spring your name has lain Now a petal on my bosom, now a leaf against my lip In the rain? I wonder if the wood thrush knows I love you,— Every step a song, every song a flight home to you While the path runs on through twilight and the night wheels back to day And I pray? I wonder if the heavens know I love you,— Dusky night-time cupped with stars, lily day immaculate Leading on unto the cross roads where you and I Say goodbye? |
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