On a Grey Thread/The Friend Departs
The Friend Departs
'T is not alone that you have gone from me:All the hungry, fragile roots of hopeAre blasted by a Thing I cannot name;And I am desolate remembering
The rare kiss, the intimate silent climbingFrom passion to a breathless comprehension.Even my peace of heart, born of long pain,Dies, drowned in a turbulence of passion.
Life today is like a glass reflectingNothing more than my own grieving eyes,Or like a goblet that I sit and stare at,Empty of all but stains of last night's wine.