Broken Promise

THAT was by the door

Leafy evening in the apple trees

And you would not forget this anymore

And even if you died there would be these

Touchings remembered

and you would return

From any bourne from any shore

To find the evening in these leaves

To find my arms beside this door...

I think O my not now Ophelia

There are not always (like a moon)

Rememberings afterward

(I think there are

Sometimes a few strange stars upon the sky.)