Ah quiet heart, my truest love,
you move in mists that fly above,
and so the hills you touch are filled with beauty:
All misty gray and dusky green,
as winds above tell me of the sea,
for so you speak, you come to me, to woo me!
So near above at early morn,
with promise of oncoming storm:
the winds pick up and stir the trees around me:
In drops still light I know your heart,
in rushing clouds your passion starts,
and I am roused as showers fall around me!
Ah my Bright One, all dark and veiled;
So dark and lovely, with eyes withheld,
Though far above me,
I know your touch—
Yours am I still!