Part 11 (1/2)

What flower, my love?

No matter, I am so happy, I feel like a firm, rich, healthy root, Rejoicing in what is to come.

How I depend on you utterly My little one, my big one!

How everything that will be, will not be of me, Nor of either of us, But of both of us.

V

AND think, there will something come forth from us.

We two, folded so small together, There will something come forth from us.

Children, acts, utterance Perhaps only happiness.

Perhaps only happiness will come forth from us.

Old sorrow, and new happiness.

Only that one newness.

But that is all I want.

And I am sure of that.

We are sure of that.

VI

AND yet all the while you are you, you are not me.

And I am I, I am never you.

How awfully distinct and far off from each other's being we are!

Yet I am glad.

I am so glad there is always you beyond my scope, Something that stands over, Something I shall never be, That I shall always wonder over, and wait for, Look for like the breath of life as long as I live, Still waiting for you, however old you are, and I am, I shall always wonder over you, and look for you.

And you will always be with me.

I shall never cease to be filled with newness, Having you near me.

_HISTORY_

THE listless beauty of the hour When snow fell on the apple trees And the wood-ash gathered in the fire And we faced our first miseries.

Then the sweeping suns.h.i.+ne of noon When the mountains like chariot cars Were ranked to blue battle--and you and I Counted our scars.

And then in a strange, grey hour We lay mouth to mouth, with your face Under mine like a star on the lake, And I covered the earth, and all s.p.a.ce.

The silent, drifting hours Of morn after morn And night drifting up to the night Yet no pathway worn.

Your life, and mine, my love Pa.s.sing on and on, the hate Fusing closer and closer with love Till at length they mate.

THE CEARNE

_SONG OF A MAN WHO HAS COME THROUGH_

NOT I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!