As a snake, coiling up in a knot,
At the very heart she's conjuring.
Or the whole day she like a tiny dove
On the window white is tender cooing.
Or she sparkles in a hoar-frost bright,
And in dozing - like a gillyflower...
But she surely, secretly guides
You from a pleasure and from a quiet.
She can sweetly and plaintively cry
In a prayer of a boring violin,
And is awe now to guess her in smile,
Yet unknown, though such greeting.
1911-01-01