Sonnet

It
may not
always
be
so...

And I say
And if your lips
which I have loved
should touch
another's
And your dear sweet fingers clutch
her heart
as mine
in time
not far away

If on another's face
your sweet hair lay

In such a silence as I know

Or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch

Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay



If this should be,
I say if this should be

You of my heart,
send me a little word

That I may go unto her, and take her hands saying

Accept
all happiness from me

Then shall I turn my face

And hear one bird
sing terribly afar
in the lost
lands...