Nor breast nor grave
As cradle you have known,--
I mourn
That my soul knows its own
Too late!

A soul's half-breath,
Passion's unremembered dream,
Perfume without a vase,
Intangible you seem
To life or death.

And when the coloured mantle of the days
Slips from my shoulders, and I lie
Forgetful, dumb,
Mingled with earth in passionless embrace,
Will you, forgotten as a bird,
Singing unheard
In space,
Will you not come
When every other dream is gone,
Bringing to that silent place
The shadow of a gesture flung
By motionless hands, a floating echo hung
From an unspoken word,
And to the empty sky
The sunset of a day which did not dawn
And cannot die !

To an Absent Child