In Love for Long

I've been in love for

With what I cannot

And will contrive a

For the

That has no mould or shape,

From which there's no escape,

It's not even a name,

Yet is all constancy;

Tried or untried the same,

It cannot part from me;

A breath yet as

As the established hill.

It is not any thing,

And yet all being is;

Being, being, being,

Its burden and its bliss.

How can I ever

What it is I love?

This happy happy

Is seiged with crying sorrows,

Crushed beneath and

Between todays and morrows;

A little

Held in the world's vice.

And there it is

As careless as a child,

And in

Flourishes sweet and wild:

In wrong, beyond

All the world's day long.

This love a moment knownfor what I do not

And in a moment

Is like the happy

That keeps its perfect

Between the tiger's

And vindicates its his collection,

The Voyage(1946)