Now that I have your face by heart,
I
Less at its features than its darkening
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd's crook.
Beyond, a garden,
There, in insolent
The lead and marble figures watch the
Of yet another summer loath to
Although the scythes hang in the apple trees.
Now that I have your face by heart,
I look.
Now that I have your voice by heart,
I
In the black chords upon a dulling
Music that is not meant for music's cage,
Whose emblems mix with words that shake and bleed.
The staves are shuttled over with a
Unprinted silence.
In a double dreamI must spell out the storm, the running stream.
The beat's too swift.
The notes shift in the dark.
Now that I have your voice by heart,
I read.
Now that I have your heart by heart,
I
The wharves with their great ships and architraves;
The rigging and the cargo and the
On a strange beach under a broken sky.
O not departure, but a voyage done!
The bales stand on the stone; the anchor
Its red rust downward, and the long vine
Beside the salt herb, in the lengthening sun.
Now that I have your heart by heart,
I see.
