Our very likeness and our nearest kin?
How can we shut them out and let stars in?'
She looked along the lake. And when I heard her speak,
The sun fell on the boy’s white sail and on her cheek.
"I touch them all through you," she said. "I cannot know them now
Deeply and truly as my very own, except through you,
Except through one or two
Interpreters.
But not a moment stirs
Here between us, binding and interweaving us,
That does not hind these others to our care."
The sunlight fell in glory on her hair;
And then said Celia, laughing when I held her near:
"They who take comfort there, shall find it here."
So when the sun stood sharp that day
Behind the shadowy firs,
This poem came to me to say,
My word and hers.
"Record it all," said Celia, "more than merely this.
More than the shine of sunset on our heads, more than a kiss,
More than our rapt agreement and delight
Watching the mountain mingle with the night . . .
Tell that the love of two incurs
[3]
