The Young Ionia

written by


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If you could come on the late train for
  The same walk
Or a hushed talk by the fireplace
  When the ash flares
As a heart could (if a heart would) to
  Recall you,
To recall allin a long
  Look, to enwrap you
As it once had when the rain streamed on the
  Fall air,
And we knew, then, it was all wrong
  It was love lost
And a year lost of the few years we
  Account most &mdash
But the bough blew and cloud
  Blew and the sky fell
From its rose ledge on the wood's rim to
  The wan brook,
And the clock read to the half-dead
  A profound page
As the cloud broke and the moon spoke and the
  Door shook &mdash

If you could come, and it meant come at the
  Steep price
We regret yet as the debt swells
  In the nighttime
And the could come if you could hum in
  The skull's drum
And the limbs writhe till the bed
  Cries like a hurt thing &mdash
If you could &mdash ah but the moon's dead and the
  Clock's dead.
For we know now: we can give all
  But it won't do,
Not the day's length nor the black strength nor
  The blood's flush.

What we took once for a sure thing,
  For delight's right,
For the clear eve with its wild star in
  The sunset,
We would have back at the old
  Cost, at the old grief
And we beg love for the same pain &mdash for a
  Last chance!
Then the god turns with a low
  Laugh (as the leaves hush)
But the eyes ice and there's no twice: the
  Benign gaze
Upon some woe but on ours no,
  And the leaves rush.

© John Frederick Nims