V
IN A DARK HOUR
You are not with me—only the moon,
The sea and the gulls' cry, out of tune;
The myriad cry of the gulls still strewn
On the sands where the tide will enter soon.
You are not with me, only the breath
Of the wind—and then the wind's death.
A shrouding silence then that saith,
"Even as wind love vanisheth."
You are not with me—only fear,
As old as earth's first frenzied bier
That severed two whose hearts were near,
And left one with all Life unclear.