Rain 
Thunder of the Rain God: 
   And we three 
   Smitten by beauty. 

Thunder of the Rain God: 
    And we three
    Weary, weary. 

Thunder of the Rain God: 
   And you, she and I 
   Waiting for nothingness. 

Do you understand the stillness 
   Of this house in Taos
Under the thunder of the Rain God? 

  Sun
That there should be a barren garden 
About this house in Taos 
Is not so strange, 
But that there should be three barren hearts
In this one house in Taos,—
Who carries ugly things to show the sun? 

 Moon 
Did you ask for the beaten brass of the moon? 
We can buy lovely things with money, 
You, she and I, 
Yet you seek, 
As though you could keep,
This unbought loveliness of moon. 

  Wind 
Touch our bodies, wind.
Our bodies are seperate, individual things. 
Touch our bodies, wind, 
But blow quickly
Through the red, white, yellow skins
Of our bodies
To the terrible snarl,
Not mine, 
Not yours,
Not hers, 
But all one snarl of souls.
Blow quickly, wind, 
Before we run back into the windlessness,—
With our bodies,—
Into the windlessness
Of our house in Taos.