The Wayfarers
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s it the hour? We leave this resting-placeMade fair by one another for a while.Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace;The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.Ah! the long road! and you so far away!Oh, I'll remember! but . . . each crawling dayWill pale a little your scarlet lips, each mileDull the dear pain of your remembered face. . . . Do you think there's a far border town, somewhere,The desert's edge, last of the lands we know,Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,In which I'll find you waiting; and we'll goTogether, hand in hand again, out there,Into the waste we know not, into the night?
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