LIKE the sway of the silver birch in the breeze of dawn br Is her dainty way; br Like the gray of a twilight sky or a starlit lawn br Are her eyes of gray; br Like the clouds in their moving white br Is her breast's soft stir; br And white as the moon and bright br Is the soul of her. br br br Like murmur of woods in spring ere the leaves be green, br Like the voice of a bird br That sings by a stream that sings through the night unseen, br So her voice is heard. br And the secret her eyes withhold br In my soul abides, br For white as the moon and cold br Is the heart she hides.