Absence

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Author
Charlotte Mew
Year
1915
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Sometimes I know the way


You walk, up over the bay;


It is a wind from that far sea


That blows the fragrance of your hair to me.





Or in this garden when the breeze


Touches my trees


To stir their dreaming shadows on the grass


I see you pass.





In sheltered beds, the heart of every rose


Serenely sleeps to-night. As shut as those


Your garded heart; as safe as they fomr the beat, beat


Of hooves that tread dropped roses in the street.





Turn never again


On these eyes blind with a wild rain


Your eyes; they were stars to me.--


There are things stars may not see.





But call, call, and though Christ stands


Still with scarred hands


Over my mouth, I must answer. So


I will come--He shall let me go!