I saw a white dove in a tree.
The tree was white, the leaves were three.
These leaves, I noticed as I passed,
were shaped as bells of crimson glass
And azure glass and emerald glass:
I felt them tremble as I passed.
The dove stood in the tree alone
and in her beak she clutched a bone.
This was my love, I heard her cry,
I drank his blood and watched him die.
I drank his blood, the dove confessed,
because I loved him to excess.
Then as I passed my body thinned,
it lifted on a gust of wind,
And I was high above the hill,
the universe was white and still
And there was neither tree nor bird
and no bell shook and no leaf stirred.