Modern Love: XVI

In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,

When in the firelight steadily aglow,

Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow

Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower

That eve was left to us: and hushed we sat

As lovers to whom Time is whispering.

From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing:

The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat.

Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay

With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes!

Love dies!" I said: I never thought it less.

She yearned to me that sentence to unsay.

Then when the fire domed blackening, I found

Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift

Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:—

Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound!