| |
| LIKE rain, that silvers out of a silent sky— | |
| “So hard,” you said. | |
| And I sent back my heart in a vain try | |
| To hold below your voice | |
| Some remnant memory of strange songs he played. | 5 |
| |
| (These moments never quite return— | |
| Not through all the years I’ll count and spend, | |
| Or light tapers to old gods and watch them burn.) | |
| |
| “Like granite feet”— | |
| You laughed, and then came back, | 10 |
| “Both light and strong, | |
| A tracery of rock on rock.” | |
| |
| The moment opened wide and let me in. | |
| I looked behind | |
| As a man who plays with sin, | 15 |
| Knowing what it was I sought— | |
| The “variation” he could never play, | |
| That from his fingered keys would always stray | |
| Uncaught. | |
| |
| “You seemed held deep | 20 |
| In thought” | |
| |
| I lied to that—confession’s cheap, | |
| A lie’s a compliment— | |
| And found myself wondering where to heap | |
| New devotions that would keep | 25 |
| Your eyes in mine | |
| In this strange experiment. | |
| |
| We were in a net | |
| Of other people’s words: | |
| They crossed us there like swords. | 30 |
| At last I tipped my hat | |
| And felt your tension drop— | |
| Hearts stop perhaps | |
| Like that | |
| |
| No doubt you will forget | 35 |
| The evening when we remet: | |
| For you a door had edged and closed | |
| Upon a stranger awkwardly disposed | |
| When I went out. | |
| |
| For me the days will live it through each time | 40 |
| In a kind of troubled rhyme— | |
| When concert whispers rise and fall, | |
| And other Russian preludes run | |
| Up chromatic scales and down. | |
| Repelled by chatter, and in vain, | 45 |
| I’ll watch the faces for a sign; | |
| As when I held out hands and cried, | |
| And of all the souls that faced my way | |
| Only yours replied. | |
| |
