Idyll

Not the wise, quiet pine nor the amorous, blonde oak

Nor the tall, pale, lady elm tree,

But you, who came invisible in a magic cloak,

You, who were the wind, chose me.

I, the white little birch, who had stood alone, serene,

Content to listen and to stare

And I never saw your hands that tore my veils of green,

Nor your lips that laughed in my hair.

You held me and kissed me, I knew your strength and grace

And dreams rose like sap in the spring.

I trembled as with buds, but I never saw your face,

I only heard you whispering.

So yawning and careless you went on to field and sea,

So here I am lonely and still

Oh wind, wind, better to have broken me

Than leave me with roots in the hill.

[17]