Page:Ephemera, Greek prose poems (IA ephemeragreek00buckrich).pdf/21



Surely I dream. It is not possible thou hast really gone. It is not possible that I have lost thee.

From the shadows, I saw thee in his arms above the flower-strewn threshold. And all that night I stood alone under the stars, my hand still clasping the charred fragments of the torch burned for thy good fortune.

The distant rumor of the sea murmurs thy name; the silence of the forests is perfumed with thy memory. Each well-remembered gesture, each fair word, each glance of eyes which understood so well

Thou hast but gone on a long journey, hast thou not? And life ebbs quickly, hand in hand with death But thou wilt return. Before I know the dream is true, surely thou wilt return