THE light Of the white night— The pale Green veil Of dawn Is gone. Gray day Dulls the sky And I lie And yearn And turn The yellowed page of memory And read to bleed. Dear, all these years My tears Have stained the hidden chapter. It was well To kill your love, but it is Hell To face its ghost. You were a lie as fair as ever slew a soul, And yet if I might take my toll Once more of kisses and caress And press Your God-hewn self again, Perhaps the pain Might still. |