go from me. yet i feel that i shall stand

henceforward in thy shadow. nevermore

alone upon the threshold of my door

of individual life, i shall command

the uses of my soul, nor lift my hand

serenely in the sunshine as before,

without the sense of that which i forbore—

thy touch upon the palm. the widest land

doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine

with pulses that beat double. what i do

and what i dream include thee, as the wine

must taste of its own grapes. and when i sue

god for myself, he hears that name of thine,

and sees within my eyes the tears of two.