You will come one day in a waved love,
Tender as the dews, impetuous as rains,
The tan of the sun will be on your white skin,
The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,
You will pose with a hill-flower grace.
Then you will come with your slim and expressive arms,
A poise of the head no sculptor has ever caught.
And poetries spoken with shoulder and neck,
Your face in a pass-and-repass of moods and attitudes.
As many as skies in delicate changes,
Of clouds and blue and flimmering sun.
Yet, you may not come, O girl of my dream,
We may but pass as the world goes by.
And take a look of you eyes into eyes,
A film of hope and a memorable day.
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