Saturday, August 1, 2015
I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup
Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.
I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,
You could not.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?
Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus'.
That new grace
Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.
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