YOU MAKE NO ANSWER

You make no answer. You have stolen away

Deliberately in that twilight sorrow

Where the dark flame that is your being shines

So well. Mysterious and deeply tender

In your motion you have softly left me,

And the little path along the house is still.

And I, a child forsaken of its mother,

I, a pilgrim leaning for a friend,

Grow faint, and tell myself in terror that

My love reborn and burning shall yet bring you —

More than friend and slender-bodied mother —

O sweet-passioned spirit, shining home!