what the river knew(and never told the millwheel,turning &turning in its sleeve of foam: that i had loved you like the bee loves clover, dumb and over & over, like the plover loves the lowtide and its silvering of stones) o(little)moon,you hydromantic penny in the wishing-dark, come down: the orchard's gone to seed and seed to sorrow, sorrow to the loam that bore us both (barefoot,blackberried, believing every barrow held a bone) and when they ask me what i carried through the valley i will say: only the hum of him;a thimbleful of sun; the small wet word the river made of my name Fun Oh honey, We dont need money Except the days we daily do who said the morning was for sleeping not my love who rises before the birds do and barefoot unbothered goes out to tally what the night left one web strung and trembling with its small wet silver the garden gone extravagant overnight a feather nobody will come to claim and i being lazy and in love call down from the window come in the world will keep but he is laughing in the tall grass Oh honey, We dont need money, Except to keep the bills at bay for you oh Darling what is there to do with such a person except everything everything everything everything
