FALLEN LOVE.

It’s not even the blink of an eye,
Not an eye lash on the blink of an eye,
Or a needle with a thread to apply,
Or the centre of a hurricane’s flight,
And though older than emeralds
It’s as fresh as ephemeral,
And where it once fell
It will fall once again
And so briefly be outside
Your door.

So catch it my dear before morning,
Before the beginning of morning,
In fact after night gives forewarning
That the moment is more or less forming;
Before the first stars,
And after the last,
And as soon as it falls
You will feel it again
A while longer than ever
Before.

You know that you’ve caught it again,
You knew that you would do again,
As the last time you proved, when it went,
That your faith was still in the ascent;
Now the day’s veneration
For night has abated,
And laid itself low
To be gathered
And trammelled
Once more.