I would think of a thousand things, Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly, One after one, like tasting a sweet food. I have need to busy my heart with quietude. They have known shame, who love unloved. Some share that night.
Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder, But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
Surely a shamed head may bow down at length, And find forgiveness where the shadows stir About her lips, and wisdom in her strength, Peace in her peace. She will not care. So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me. The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home, Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.