we stood by a pond that winter day
and the sun was white as though chidden of god
and a few leaves lay on the starving sod
 they had fallen from an ash and were gray
your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
over tedious riddles of years ago
and some words played between us to and fro
on which lost the more by our love
the smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
alive enough to have strength to die