Half-waked I hurried down the stairs to say good-bye; The imprints of my feet were faint, and almost lost, In stillness lying on the early morning house As fragile and as delicately rough as frost. Outside were last night's lanterns in the windless trees, Thin blue, unnatural green, and yellow like the fruit You moved across the room slowly to touch and take. We held each other, drowsy, close, surprised and mute -- As if that other pendent paper globe, the earth, Had gone out, too, last night, swayed softly, made an end, And we had waked to morning in another world Where there was no more need of speech to apprehend. You went into the sun and may not be possessed For long by that reality; but it will keep. The startling, half-forgotten clearness of a dream For me, who went back through the frosted house to sleep. |