Dark Chestnut

Thou shaking thy dark shadows down, Like leaves before the first leaves fall, Pourest upon the head of night Her loveliest loveliness of all— Dark leaves that tremble When soft airs unto softer call. O, darker, softer fall her thoughts Upon the cold fields of my mind, Weaving a quiet music there Like leaf-shapes trembling in least wind: Dark thoughts that linger When the light's gone and the night's blind. I see her there beneath your boughs. Dark chestnut, though you see her not; Her white face and white hands are clear As the moon in your stretched arms caught; But stranger, clearer, The living shadows of her thought.