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I had remarked--how sharply one observes
  When life is disappearing round the curves
  Of yet another corner, out of sight!--
  I had remarked when it was "good luck" and "good night"
  And "a good journey to you," on her face
  Certain enigmas penned in the hieroglyphs
  Of that half frown and queer fixed smile and trace
  Of clouded thought in those brown eyes,
  Always so happily clear of hows and ifs--
  My poor bleared mind!--and haunting whys.

  There I stood, holding her farewell hand,
  (Pressing my life and soul and all
  The world to one good-bye, till, small
  And smaller pressed, why there I'd stand
  Dead when they vanished with the sight of her).
  And I saw that she had grown aware,
  Queer puzzled face! of other things
  Beyond the present and her own young speed,
  Of yesterday and what new days might breed
  Monstrously when the future brings
  A charger with your late-lamented head:
  Aware of other people's lives and will,
  Aware, perhaps, aware even of me ...
  The joyous hope of it! But still
  I pitied her; for it was sad to see
  A goddess shorn of her divinity.
  In the midst of her speed she had made pause,
  And doubts with all their threat of claws,
  Outstripped till now by her unconsciousness,
  Had seized on her; she was proved mortal now.
  "Live, only live! For you were meant
  Never to know a thought's distress,
  But a long glad astonishment
  At the world's beauty and your own.
  The pity of you, goddess, grown
  Perplexed and mortal."
  Yet ... yet ... can it be
  That she is aware, perhaps, even of me?

  And life recedes, recedes; the curve is bare,
  My handkerchief flutters blankly in the air;
  And the question rumbles in the void:
  Was she aware, was she after all aware?

© Aldous Huxley