Ev’ry Valley Shall Speak Love

Ev’ry valley shall speak love. Ev’ry mountain
Withers away too soon; the crooked spark lost,
Made so brief in the dark places. A thief shall
Be exalted, like the rough, plain curtain

Wherever I go. I wait and every tomorrow
Ends, made low. And love, ev’ry hill and
Swift ship drift straight apart, the ends
Exalted to me, low, the summer places

Too darling, too plain, too late when you
Speak, thief, and always too soon. I shall
Be made crooked and rough. Will you speak
Plain to me, speak to me, and soon?


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