Their hearts were like trees

Of an autumn;

I saw them bloom, I saw them burn,


I saw how so much clear air

And fierce skies

Could never slake their thirst,


But merely prolong the burning.


The Spirit, bracing as an early frost,

Bestrode the land

Speaking cool, clear prophecies


Like the surfaces of lakes,

Like the spaces between stars,


And the wind of its passing

Caused the world to echo

With passions,


Whispering like fallen leaves,

A blanket of fire for the frozen.