One time when ashen clouds received the sun
  And the sea rose beneath us, clamouring
At the wind's wrath, and day was almost done
  We met upon the levels, and heard sing 
A little mother lark—and found her nest
  Among the sodden sedges, while above,
She poured us from the treasury of her breast
    Hiatus of long standing....
And for an instant both our hearts were stirred
  To the same music, and our souls were one
And to her lips my own hot lips were set—
  Then close behind us dropped the mother bird,
And either heart drew back to dwell alone—
And bitterly each soul cried out 'Not Yet'—

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