In your arms was still delight, br Quiet as a street at night; br And thoughts of you, I do remember, br Were green leaves in a darkened chamber, br Were dark clouds in a moonless sky. br Love, in you, went passing by, br Penetrative, remote, and rare, br Like a bird in the wide air, br And, as the bird, it left no trace br In the heaven of your face. br In your stupidity I found br The sweet hush after a sweet sound. br All about you was the light br That dims the greying end of night; br Desire was the unrisen sun, br Joy the day not yet begun, br With tree whispering to tree, br Without wind, quietly. br Wisdom slept within your hair, br And Long-Suffering was there, br And, in the flowing of your dress, br Undiscerning Tenderness. br And when you thought, it seemed to me, br Infinitely, and like a sea, br About the slight world you had known br Your vast unconsciousness was thrown. . . .