  Come home to me, are you come home to me, O heart of mine—but in what dolorous guise! And the great hour, O ’twas otherwise Love had imagined it in days to be! These pleading hands—these lips—How dreadfully, At what strange lips and in what alien eyes Have you sought mine? Beneath what darkening skies Come home to me at last, come home to me? I would not know the reason: here upon This breast of sorrows loose your aching breast; Tell me again and yet again, and say Still the eternal word, still babble on Your voiceless tale of some unhappy quest— |
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