After You Speak

By Edward Thomas

After you speak

And what you meant

Is plain,

My eyes

Meet yours that mean,

With your cheeks and hair,

Something more wise,

More dark,

And far different.

Even so the lark

Loves dust

And nestles in it

The minute

Before he must

Soar in lone flight

So far,

Like a black star

He seems -

A mote

Of singing dust

Afloat

Above,

The dreams

And sheds no light.

I know your lust

Is love.