Eyelash on my lover's cheek:

It is for you the sparrows speak.

Notice when I brush you off

It bends their beaks from bold to meek. 

Or else the summer nimbus swells

And rains and quiets— and quells

Their chirping hunger with the humid

Breeze we, in our slumber, smell. 

What shy, tired words all softly utter

To the weeping of the gutter!

Hunger buried, moved to thirst,

Our eyes, our hearts, the sparrows flutter.