"I’d speak into your mouth ;
And go on, pressing
Your body like a little girl’s I was putting to bed,
Drunk with the blood

That runs blue under your white skin
With its tints of rose :
And speaking to you in that frank tongue…
There !… - that you understand…

Our great woods would smell of sap,
And the sunlight
Would dust with fine gold their great
Green and bronze dream.

"