XXXIII

You came and you went, and I swept you aside, not a trace

Does my wisdom endure of your words and your beautiful face

And the curls of your hair;

Yet your presence, a song, murmurs ever in hopeless refrain,

And I wake in the night with my empty hands yearning in vain

For the touch of your hair.

You went, and I triumphed — I crushed out my heart with a kiss

On the lips that are ashen, forgetting spring's wonderful bliss

And your tremulous lips;

Yet the kisses were ghostly with jasmine, dear jasmine of May —

The new has the soul of the old, is aflame with the way

And the touch of your lips.

You came and you went, and the world wearies on with its game.

My heart never falters or fears at the sound of your name

Or the sight of your face;

Yet the ghost of our passion stands white in the midst of my heart,

With your hands and your hair, and I know it will never depart

Passion's ghost with your face!