Confession

Each thought the other had nor sipped nor flung The burning sense-wine tingling through each vein. And so we sat and heard old ballads sung With such child things throughout a night of rain; Until a somehow smoldering poem rang Through all my flesh. Sublimely without fear Somehow that smoldering song I wildly sang! And poured my wintry wine dregs full and clear. It seemed a lighted radiance sought her face, Till we were friends no more but strangely one; And silently we left that sacred place To muse how deep two secret rivers run.