I woke up with this poem by Robert Graves in my head. They occur to me sometimes, just as the wind rounds Ludlow, just as the furnace kicks up, just as I land my head on your shoulder.
She Tells Her Love
She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And put out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.