The nights have grown cool again, like the nights <br />Of early spring, and quiet again. Will <br />Speech disturb you? We're <br />Alone now; we have no reason for silence. <br /> <br />Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises. <br />I won't see the next full moon. <br /> <br />In spring, when the moon rose, it meant <br />Time was endless. Snowdrops <br />Opened and closed, the clustered <br />Seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts. <br />White over white, the moon rose over the birch tree. <br />And in the crook, where the tree divides, <br />Leaves of the first daffodils, in moonlight <br />Soft greenish-silver. <br /> <br />We have come too far together toward the end now <br />To fear the end. These nights, I am no longer even certain <br />I know what the end means. And you, who've been <br />With a man-- <br /> <br />After the first cries, <br />Doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?<br /><br />Louise Gluck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-silver-lily/
