My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, <br />As the poor and sad are real to the good king, <br />And the high green hill sits always by the sea. <br /> <br />Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree, <br />Turned a somersault and ran away waving; <br />My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely. <br /> <br />The Witch gave a squawk; her venomous body <br />Melted into light as water leaves a spring, <br />And the high green hill sits always by the sea. <br /> <br />At his crossroads, too, the Ancient prayed for me, <br />Down his wasted cheeks tears of joy were running: <br />My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely. <br /> <br />He kissed me awake, and no one was sorry; <br />The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything, <br />And the high green hill sits always by the sea. <br /> <br />So to remember our changing garden, we <br />Are linked as children in a circle dancing: <br />My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, <br />And the high, green hill sits always by the sea.<br /><br />WH Auden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/miranda-2/
