Day That I Have Loved

Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,

  And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin

  dead hands.

The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.

  I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,

Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's

  making

  Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water

  crowned.

There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of

  waking;

  And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,

Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our

  sight,

  Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-

  gleaming

And marble sand. . . .

  Beyond the shifting cold twilight,

Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than

  dreaming,

There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drear

  Waste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on

  the deep.

Oh, the last fire - and you, unkissed, unfriended there!

  Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to

  weep!

(We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned

  with flowers,

  Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us,

Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing

  hours,

High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and

  tenebrous,

The grey sands curve before me. . .

  From the inland meadows,

  Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark, and

  fills

The hollow sea's dead face with little creeping

  shadows,

  And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.

Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,

  Hushed all the joyful voices; and we, who held you

  dear,

Eastward we turn and homeward, alone,

  remembering . . .

  Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!

1908

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