Over June Lane Miranda, As you move between the rocks, Gold as the sun your uncut locks, And turn in its light, The long night coming from over the sky, Oh I never, in all my days, Knew a gaze that rivalled yours. No I never, though I went so far, Met the girl that you are In any teeming town. Miranda, You and I in a tiny shop, On a corner in a street When England was sunny, And the morning late, And free from the gate of a child-filled school You waited that I take you Hand-led to the hill. Only you, Miranda And a setting of the sun, Only you by the shadowy rock You lay your hand upon, The water twisting in the wood, The high dark waiting to come, When you dreamt in the grass and your voice was mute And all the safe daylight gone. Only you, Miranda, And a wordless voice of love, On leaves above a heedless town, Ever golder your hair In a high moon lifting. Only you Miranda, And a dusk upon the hill, And what I say in certain suns, On fields a long-gone girl had run in, Is like a longing for a morning, Gardens wet we met and ran in, With the see-through river ringing In the dark of a silent wood.
