Wonder

Here are the shadows veiling green with grey And winning all the wonder from the light; Here phantom fragrance swells and fails like sound; The hour distills itself to dark; the day Dreams in its grave and lo, the dream is night.

Beloved, all the marvel of the May, The altared dark, the petals’ solemn white, The moments rich with farewell from the lips Of dying moments--what are these? We lay Our love beside them and exceed the night.