Oh so dear from far and near and white, so

Charmingly you, Mary, as I dream

Of some rare balm drifting from a lie

On no vase of darkened crystal

You knew it, yes! For me here are the years, here are

Always what your dazzling smile continues

The same rose with its lovely summer that plunged

Long ago and will do so in the future

My heart that in the nights sometimes searches to hear

Or of that last word, the tenderest, you are called

Impassioned in the one nothing that sister whispered

Were it not a very great treasure, and a head so small

That you teach me well a whole other sweetness

All spoken into by the only kiss in your hair.

03/13/08