DAY THAT I HAVE LOVED
Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,
And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.
The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.
I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,
Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the
sea's making
Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water
crowned.
There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of
waking;
And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,
Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our
sight,
Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-
gleaming
And marble sand. . . .
Beyond the shifting cold twilight,
Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,
There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drear
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