Philip Larkin — I put my mouth

I put my mouth Close to running water: Flow north, flow south, It will not matter, It is not love you will find. I told the wind: It took away my words: It is not love you will find, Only the bright-tongued birds, Only a moon with no home. It is not love you will find: You have no limbs Crying for stillness, you have no mind Trembling with seraphim, You have no death to come.