Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn: br It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond br Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond br Stares. And you sing, you sing. br br That star-enchanted song falls through the air br From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound, br Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground; br And all the night you sing. br br My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee br As all night long I listen, and my brain br Receives your song, then loses it again br In moonlight on the lawn. br br Now is your voice a marble high and white, br Then like a mist on fields of paradise, br Now is a raging fire, then is like ice, br Then breaks, and it is dawn.