Is it the hour? We leave this
Made fair by one another for a while.
Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace;
The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.
Ah! the long road! and you so far away!
Oh,
I'll remember! but . . . each crawling
Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each
Dull the dear pain of your remembered face.. . .
Do you think there's a far border town, somewhere,
The desert's edge, last of the lands we know, Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,
In which I'll find you waiting; and we'll
Together, hand in hand again, out there, Into the waste we know not, into the night?
