Classic Poem

As the rain falls
so does
your love

bathe every
open
object of the world—
In houses
the priceless dry
rooms
of illicit love
where we live
hear the wash of the
rain—

There
paintings
and fine
metalware
woven stuffs—
all the whorishness
of our
delight
sees
from its window

the spring wash
of your love
the falling
rain—

The trees
are become
beasts fresh-risen
from the sea—
water

trickles
from the crevices of
their hides—

So my life is spent
to keep out love
with which
she rains upon
the world
of spring

drips

so spreads

the words

far apart to let in

her love

And running in between

the drops

the rain

is a kind physician

the rain
of her thoughts over
the ocean
every

where

walking with
invisible swift feet
over

the helpless
waves—

Unworldly love
that has no hope
of the world

and that
cannot change the world
to its delight—

The rain
falls upon the earth
and grass and flowers
come
  perfectly

into form from its
liquid

clearness

But love is
unworldly

and nothing
comes of it but love

following
and falling endlessly
from
  her thoughts