In Time

I passed through hours that prolonged their flight, a dimmed sky, the heart thought fall, dreamed sixteen shades of the night. To yield the silver leaf, was more and more bright, for the heart cannot die, here are roots of the white flower— it has given a long spell. Will love hear the sweet paths come, or sing as I do, early? Come gentle, down low, like the eaves that shape down, this passing of time shall grow;

• HD