Hard rock was I, and she was water flowing,
Over sharp stones of opposition going;
Shaping herself to me as to a cup,
She filled the valleys of my ego up
With a cool, smooth compliance, everywhere
As yielding and unhurtable as air.
Soft was my love as water, and I forgot
In the calm wash of complaint rhythm caught
How water shapes and softens, sculpts and smooths
The channel of the rock through which it moves.