The Amicable Wood

We bethought ourselves of things pure

Side by side, along the ways,

We were hand in hand always

Speechless... amid flowers obscure;

We were walking like a couple

Alone, in the meadows’ green night;

We partook of that faëry fruit

The moon to madmen amicable

And then, we were dead on the moss,

Far-off, amid the shadow soft

Of that wood close and murmuring;

And above, in light immense,

We found ourselves together weeping

O most dear companion of silence!

Paul Valéry