I speak of your departure casually
As though it were a hundred years away;
As Youth is wont to say:
"Sometime we all must die!"

II

We talk of all the happy things we have done,
We pass them in review,
"Do you remember?" is often on our lips.

One by one
We touch our memories and put them all away--
How shall I dare to look at them
When you are gone!

III

There is no beginning to my love
Nor any end--
It is about your head
Like the deep air,
More than your breath can spend.
Oft is about your heart
Like arms of faith--
Where you go, it is there.

IV

There are no last things to say,