The wind is the ghost in the invisible sheet
Which tears these summer leaves apart,
Which pushes the bird into the distant air
Which carries the watching eye away
Down evening's steps, down sunlight's loss
Into blind night, empty, without you,
Where tobacco accompanies these silent thoughts,
These meditations upon solitude,
Which turn in the thickened, smoky room,
Like old mill wheels.
Thoughts of ruined factories
Where the beat and whistle of pigeons' wings
Disturbs the dust where the rye-grass grows.
Thoughts of abandoned country roads
Which shadows lace as darkness falls,
Of a thousand faces come and gone
Down city streets - Thoughts of thoughts
That rattled on the railway memory
Bring the past to present life,
Bring you to me.
You were all the moments of my life's making,
An undertaking to all the mysteries of love,
You held the deep sea's round immensity
Within your heart.
You are this troubled night, this quiet street,
This passage of brilliant memories
Through my mind.
And who would believe?
Like some rare flower
Which all the world is searching for
Who would believe?
That with these hands
You once were held.