IN the old days, when first I knew you, we
Were not afraid of Silence. We could stand
Whole growing-spaces, staring splendidly
Across the moon-white, palpitating land,
And turn, and climb again the mountain-trail,
With but a sigh of joy. — Or we could sit
Half-hours by the wood-fire, while the frail
Fierce sparks whirled starwards from the heart of it.
Our thoughts, it seemed, their quiet distance kept;
Their highroads never meeting, side by side,
Moonward and starward, innocent they swept;
And we were glad, and silent, and the wide
Still world was all our playground, for we knew
That we could dream together, — I and you.
But now we are afraid of Silence. We
Dare not a moment let her come to us,
Lest she betray us, blankly, utterly.
She who was once so kind, now perilous
As some sly enemy, must stand apart.
The shuttle of our words shoots to and fro
In worthless webs; while constantly my heart
Yearns back to Silence, begging her to show
The old clear look: — hushed lips, free hands. Alas
Her treacherous, throbbing presence we must flee:
Must blur the precious moments, till they pass
To leave me hurt by you, — and you by me.
Ah, bitter broken day, when first we knew
We dared not dream together, — I and you !