“I should not cry for what had come between,
For I should have you here with me again.
I am not one who must have everything.
I was not fated to have everything.
One may be wise enough, not having all,
Still to be found among the fortunate.”
For I should have you here with me again.
I am not one who must have everything.
I was not fated to have everything.
One may be wise enough, not having all,
Still to be found among the fortunate.”
She stood beside him now and felt his arm
Closing around her like an arm afraid.
“Little you know, my child,” he thought, in anguish
A moment for the fear and innocence
That he was holding and was his to hold,
“What ashes of all this wisdom might be left you
After one blast of sick reality
To tell the wise what words are to the heart.”
And then aloud: “There’s a ship coming in
From somewhere north of us.”
Closing around her like an arm afraid.
“Little you know, my child,” he thought, in anguish
A moment for the fear and innocence
That he was holding and was his to hold,
“What ashes of all this wisdom might be left you
After one blast of sick reality
To tell the wise what words are to the heart.”
And then aloud: “There’s a ship coming in
From somewhere north of us.”
“There are no ships
From the north now that are worth looking at,”
She said; and he could feel her trembling warm
Against him till he felt her scorching him
With an unconscious and accusing fire.
“There was a time when I was always gazing
From the north now that are worth looking at,”
She said; and he could feel her trembling warm
Against him till he felt her scorching him
With an unconscious and accusing fire.
“There was a time when I was always gazing
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