poui

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

out of a legend that we do not know

this warm reminder with its pallid glow

 

absent all anger absent too all glee

for a short season we absorb the show

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

 

so magic fills the air and what we see

is all the ground covered in golden snow

a lovely moment if we let it be

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

moonset

go up the rise and look down on the sea

ten miles away the moon is setting now

this is a moment which will long allow

warm recollection both of bird and tree

there's nothing here right now would disagree

that time is perfect but we can't endow

life and eternity instead the plough

pushes it under where we cannot see

lost to us all and so left far behind

are all those things only half understood

but not then wanted since the childish voice

is not the speaker for the full-grown mind

nor can we tell yet what is truly good

when we are forced to make a final choice