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We were following the track
            Through the woods behind
                        The wheatfields. I could
See the whiteness of her
            Dress in the blue dark
                        Dance like a candle as she
Skipped from the path to
            The trees and back and
                        Ran on ahead down it.
We were going up a
            Shallow incline, she kept on
                        Calling back to me my name,
And the wind would rise
            Over her voice and the trees
                        Rush down into it.
We were always to be back
            By dark, and it was
                        Already dark, and it was a
Long way back down
            Through the woods and
                        Across the fields and she
Was going too far ahead so
            I called for her to wait
                        But it was against the wind
And I don't know that
            She heard me. So I ran
                        Through the billowing trees
And when I reached her she
            Seemed to be half asleep.
                        White, under a dark beech.