Thoughts Of Thee

My daylight hours forbid a thought of thee. I must not even write thy name on rainy Steamed-up windowpane. The leaves of windy Whispering tree may comfort me by naming Out it's gentle song to thee, but not for I To utter single sound. Clouds pass shameless Patterns of your face, forming in the sky. I seeing, inward start, for joy - but blame The sun for blushing my pink cheeks, spying Frowns on surrounding watchers, I hasty Take my fan and smile, and with calm remain All day, - but when at night I fall asleep With my first dream thou my love comest too. My dearest one a rendevous I keep Within thine arms. With thee my hopes come true.