Words for the Chisel (collection)/Fall of Dew

by Genevieve Taggard

Fall of Dew

Sweet mortal boy who walks with meNearer and nearer the sleepy sea

Wherein we shall be separateDrowning singly—it is late;

Now while my mind is clear and airyI want to hurry, hurry, carry

All I may ever keep with meBefore it vanishes, to the sea;

Toward the salty seatakeDew from a little inland lake;

A lake that lay on a leaf, whereYou wrung water from the air;

The sea has nothing to say to this;I will dilute her salt with bliss;

However silent, it has been.I am sleepy and serene.