To See Him Again
And shall it never be again, never ? Not on nights filled
with trembling of stars, or by the pure light
of virginal dawns, or on afternoons of immolation?.
Never, at the edge of any pale pathway
that borders the field, or beside any
tremulous fountain white under the moon?.
Never, beneath the entangled tresses of the forest
where, calling out to him, night descended on me?
Nor in the cavern that returns my echoing outcry?.
Oh, no! Just to see him again, no matter where
in little patches of sky or in the seething vortex,
beneath placid moons or in a livid
And, together with him, to be all springtimes
and all winters, entwined in one anguished knot
around his bloodstained neck!