Almond, wild almond, 
Give counsel to me, 
And hush thy fierce lover 
The wind in the tree ! 

Along the night pasture 
I've come through the dew 
To tell thee, wild almond, 
The old songs are true ! 

Like the flower on thy branches 
The heart in me springs 
With airs and upliftings 
And hundreds of wings ! 

I, too, have a lover . . . 
Keep, keep it from them --
The wise ones that eye me --
Thou whispering stem ! 

I deal with him coldly --
I dash him with pride : 
Yet he comes of evenings 
And stands at my side. 

O had he entreated 
I could have said nay, 
But he, he says nothing 
And then goes away ! 

Ah, loves he for ever ? . . . 
And loves me alone? . . . 
These things that men say not 
How can they be known ? 

He may, but he may not,
And I would be free : --
Now play not, now sway not, 
Thou little black tree, 

Almond, wild almond, 
Give counsel to me !