Let's swerve from the road and go
To seek whispering cane...
But the lane is reft by a snow,
Only bird can show us the way...
To that cane in a swale, where
Its whisper congealed on the trees;
And the air,
Scarce breathing, it reads -
This poesy froze; shall you, Dew
Of the Night, come with me,
Come with me..?
