Classic Poem

Here where the dark earth heaves
Like a tossing sea
And frost shakes down the leaves
From the Judas tree
And on the warren lie
The broken flints,
On which like a snake's eye
The green moon glints;

At first I thought, Perhaps
As it only seems
That a flint-knapper knaps,
So all is dreams
And we two are not here;
And then you spoke
And we were standing there
In the moon's white smoke.