As a man and woman make <br />a garden between them like <br />a bed of stars, here <br />they linger in the summer evening <br />and the evening turns <br />cold with their terror: it <br />could all end, it is capable <br />of devastation. All, all <br />can be lost, through scented air <br />the narrow columns <br />uselessly rising, and beyond, <br />a churning sea of poppies-- <br /> <br />Hush, beloved. It doesn't matter to me <br />how many summers I live to return: <br />this one summer we have entered eternity. <br />I felt your two hands <br />bury me to release its splendor.<br /><br />Louise Gluck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-white-lilies/
