What were you seeking? For my heart
Woke at your step and heard;
The farthest wakeful leaf of me,
And the hidden nest of the midmost tree
Hushed with its hidden bird.
Ah, but the rune imprisoned me
Till you should speak one word.
Why did you think the spell that drew
Fell from the cedar there?
You questioned pine and sister pine,
Lingered near ash and wild-grape vine,
—Doubted the maidenhair;
Ever you missed these eyes of mine
Too like the twilight air.
The Sun may call the dew to him,
The waters call the deer;
But O, my roots bind every limb
To hold me hid, apart and dim
And silent, and so near;—
And every leaf of me abrim—
With that you shall not hear.