First love need have no words.
No word, no volume ever could express
Such vast tenderness.
It steals like mist on that unfolding hour
And it is shyness, holiness and power,
Hushed, lest if spoken it might disappear.
Its perfume tints the air like ancient musk,
A flower’s shadow stirring in the dusk
And in its depth the shadow of a tear.
It is a moon-wind tossing in the night,
Fragile illumined, awesome in its flight;
Blowing the wandering heart beyond its bars
To climb the sky and tremble through the stars.
