for Marie She walked with me some while beside the wood, Knowing only what we neither understood: The way was dark; the path confused, but good. What'd tumbled down to make the walking trouble Came, at least, from above to have us stumble; At least, though lost, we were paired and doubled. All about us moved what we took as gloom, A dark in darkness beyond the dark of rooms -Unsure if ourselves or wood had bade it come. She sang in fallen night, the moon standing by, Sang of something farther on, past sky And night, past unanswered owl and me. Something settled round her then, some shine; A startlement in branches brought a shadow down; She was not the world's; nor was she mine.