On a Grey Thread/You Are Not She
You Are Not She
You are not she I loved. You cannot be My wild, white dove,My tempest-driven dove that I gave house, You cannot be my Love.
She died. I used to hold her all night long; Come awakeAt dawn beside her. Try to ease with loving A thirst too deep to slake.
O, it was pain to keep her shut against me. Honey and bitternessTo taste her with sharp kisses and hold her after In brief duress.
You cold woman, you stranger with her ways, Smiling cruelly,You tear my heart as never her wild wings' beating Wounded me.