with your eyes' wide calm.
Though noonday shadows are
The sun remains when I remember them,
And death, if it should come,
must fall like quiet snow from
such clear skies.
Minutes we snatched from the unkind winds
are grown into daffodils by the sea's edge,
mocking it's green miseries;
Yet I seek you hourly still, over
a new Atlantis loneliness, blind
as a restless needle held by the
constant north we
always have in mind.