Thou Shaking Thy Dark Shadows Down, Like Leaves Before The First Leaves Fall, Pourest Upon The Head Of Night Her Loveliest Loveliness Of All-- Dark Leaves That Tremble When Soft Airs Unto Softer Call. O, Darker, Softer Fall Her Thoughts Upon The Cold Fields Of My Mind, Weaving A Quiet Music There Like Leaf-Shapes Trembling In Least Wind: Dark Thoughts That Linger When The Light'S Gone And The Night'S Blind. I See Her There Beneath Your Boughs. Dark Chestnut, Though You See Her Not; Her White Face And White Hands Are Clear As The Moon In Your Stretched Arms Caught; But Stranger, Clearer, The Living Shadows Of Her Thought.