Hear now?      
Open, darling. Stay with me –
forget him, her,
day’s lurid ceremonies.
I’m not deceiving. The bellbirds
we listen to on our walks
have moved closer overnight,
swapping the wonted grove
for my sorry eyrie.
There they are again –
just a pair of them,
all we need, an anthem
only we can hear, miraculous.
Surely you can hear through
the fronds of night.                       
                       Waken, Lesbia.
Stir on my shoulder
while they rally us.                        
Let’s count each peal and kiss –
they alternate for us.
Take nothing for granted,
repeat ‘nothing’, 
                       lest the birds
that ring choose another grove.

(From The Catullan Rag)