The Silver Lily
The nights have grown cool again, like
of early spring, and quiet again. Will
speech disturb you? We're
alone now; we have no reason for
Can you see, over the garden—the full
I won't see the next full moon.
In spring, when the moon rose, it meant
time was endless. Snowdrops
opened and closed, the clustered
seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts.
White over white, the moon rose over the
And in the crook, where the tree
leaves of the first daffodils, in
We have come too far together toward the
to fear the end. These nights, I am no
longer even certain
I know what the end means. And you,
who've been with a man—
after the first cries,
doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?