I have come to the border of sleep, Have I or not ? I do not know... The unfathomable deep... Forest where all must lose their way, however straight or winding, soon or late; We can not choose...

Out in the dark and over the snow,
The fallow fawns invisible go 
With the fallow doe;
And the winds blow
Fast as the starts are slow...

As well as any bloom upon a flower
I like the dust on the nettles,
Never lost except to prove the
Sweetness of a shower.

There is no love for such,
Only a willed genteelness...