Opals (Custance)/Ideal
For works with similar titles, see Ideal.
Ideal
We are not sundered for we never met. We only passed each other in the throng, We moved together but not long . . . not long . . .You were indifferent . . . and I may forget Your profound eyes, your heavy hair, your voice So clear, yet deep and low with tenderness, That lingered on my ears like a caress And roused my heart to make a futile choice. ······O! Poet that passed me carelessly in the throng— O! Soul that clamoured unto God in song! How should I lose you thus and lack regret?