XIITO-GETHER
Why in the word to-gether should there lieThe desolate separation that is life?
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Her image buried in unseeing sight,His eyes alighted on unchosen spots,Like lost ideas adventuring in a mind,A tangled twilit wilderness of thought.As she was ever folded in the peaceThat lapped the deep seclusion of his heart,How could he know her tortured doubting soul,Craving for certainty, destroying faith,Her fevered body vainly seeking restIn the unconscious refuge of his arms.For as he stroked her face, her arms, her hands,His love was moored to some eternal coastSome distant outpost of the absolute—Yet while she sank, deep in the cool, rapt quietOf touch and sight and sound and certainty,The foolish creature murmured to herself:"These happy moments let me hold them tight,
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