O my love The pretty towns All the blue tents of our nights together And the lilies and the birds glad in our joy The road through the forest Where the surly wolf lived And the snow at the top of the mountain And the little Rain falling on the roofs of the village O my love my dear lady The world is not very big There is only room for our wonder And the light leaning winds of heaven Are not more sweet or pure Than your mouth on my throat O my love there are larks in our morning And the finding flame of your hands And the moss on the bank of the river And the butterflies And the whirling-mad Butterflies! “O My Love the Pretty Towns” by Kenneth Patchen