The Garden

In the middle of the night, every creature sleeps, Soft woods put down their faces; patience keeps The breath of dawn within, I observe, And wonder at light that wrapped us up so soon! The colorful spiders stretch warm webs

And coiled are like wild vines along the lapis fields; And then those stars recall the song of meandering suns, The troves from above—your golden hair, Oh love, led to the bloom, of flowers -

Your laughter-string resonated like a flute, And every petal now is praise—a track, a haloed ring— That dances ‘round the moonlight where Among light-turned hearts—all allow.

• Edna St Vincent Millay