I never loved you more
Than when I let you sleep another hour,
As if you intended to make such a gate of time
Your home. Speechless as night animals,
The breeze and I breakfasted
With the pure desire of speech; but let
Each petal of your dream have its chance,
The many little shawls that covered you:
I never envied your child's face
Its motherless cheekbones, or sensed in them
The approach of illness - how you were being
Half-killed on a sea-shore, or falling
From a ladder where you knelt to watch
The quartering of the moon. (You would never
Swim to the topof the rain that bathed
The mute world of her body.)
Sleep for you is a trick
Of the frost, a light green room in a French house,
Giving no trouble til spring.
The wedding-boots of the wind
Blow footsteps behind me,
I count each season for the sign
Of wasted children.
Sky of blue water, blue-water sky,
I sleep with the dubious kiss
Of mf my sky-blue portfolio.
Under or over the wind,
In soft and independent clothes,
I begin each dawn-coloured picture
Deep in your snow.
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