After You Speak

AFTER you speak And what you meant Is plain, My eyes Meet yours that mean-- With your cheeks and hair-- Something more wise, More dark, And far different. Even so the lark Loves dust And nestles in it The minute Before he must Soar in lone flight So far, Like a black star He seems-- A mote Of singing dust Afloat Above, That dreams And sheds no light. I know your lust Is love.