Those two had sewed themselves a dignity From all the patches of failure they had cut From the success of others. And their heads Were high in an austerity of grief For what they had not been. I cannot say They loved, for they only lived In profile to each other, Looking on life as it were a relief Against eternity. And when they spoke Their voices left no echo for they pricked The surface of silence lightly as a thought. And oh! how cruelly neat their house! There were No kindly folds in curtains, no idle chair Pulled carelessly askew for gossiping, But everything was crucified on walls. Even the sun was a severity. They never had a child, for it would be A sign of some prosperity. And had they yet, I'm sure it would have been A shadow, for these two were Ephemeral as two may be and live. And I have come to know that all they have Was all they could ever come upon Even had they encompassed a success. |