The Gardener: 29
Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang.
The night is dark. The stars are lost in clouds. The wind is sighing through the leaves.
I will let loose my hair. My blue cloak will cling round me like night. I will clasp your head to my bosom; and there in the sweet loneliness murmur on your heart. I will shut my eyes and listen. I will not look in your face.
When your words are ended, we will sit still and silent. Only the trees will whisper in the dark.
The night will pale. The day will dawn. We shall look at each other's eyes and go on our different paths.
Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang.
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