My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, —No, — nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell',
And with the day, distance again
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.
Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove's wings clung about my heart each
With surging gentleness, and the blue
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.
