Harold Hart Crane

Forgetfulness is like a song That, freed from beat and measure, wanders
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless, — A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly
Forgetfulness is rain at night,

My hands have not touched water since your hands, -No; - nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell'
And with the day, distance again
Between us, voiceless as an uncoiled shell
Yet, - much follows, much endures… Trust birds alone:

The host, he says that all is
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-But on the window licks the night
Pile on the logs

As silent as a mirror is
Realities plunge in silence by

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

Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page And still wing on, untarnished of the name We pinion to your bodies to assuage Our envy of your freedom—we must maim Because we are usurpers, and chagrined— And take the wing and scar it in the hand

It sheds a shy solemnity,
This lamp in our poor room
O grey and gold amenity, —Silence and gentle gloom
Wide from the world, a stolen