Absence


Sometimes I know the way
     You walk, up over the bay;
It is a wind from the far sea

That blows the fragrance of your hair to me.
Or in this garden when the breeze
     Touches my trees
To stir their dreaming shadows on the grass
I see you pass.

In shelterd beds, the heart of every rose
     Serenly sleeps tonight. As shut as those
Your guarded heart; as safe as they from the beat, beat
Of hooves that tread dropped roses in the street.

            Turn never again
         On these eyes blind with a wild rain
        Your eyes; they were stars to me.
There are things stars may not see.

But call, call, and though Christ stands
      Still with scarred hands
Over my mouth, I must answer. So
I will come--He shall let me go!



Copyright by Charlotte Mew

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