Fawns in the winter wood 
Who feel their horns, and leap, 
Swans whom the bleakening mood 
Of evening stirs from sleep, 
Tall flowers that unfurl 
As a moth, driven, flies, 
Flowers with the breasts of a girl 
And sea-cold eyes. 
The bare bright mirrors glow 
For their enchanted shapes. 
Each is a flame, and so, 
Like flame, escapes.