Summer rush,

I could not see a leaf on the tree,

And now I could count them, one, two, three,

Count them over and over,

Leaf from leaf like lips apart,

Like lips apart for a lover.

And the hillside beats with my beating heart,

And the apple-tree blushes all over,

And the May bough touched me and made me start,

And the wind breathes warm like a lover.

- The Milkmaid's poem, Sydney Thompson Dobell