My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands,—
No,—nor my lips freed laughter since ‘arewell’,
And with the day, distance again expands
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.
 
Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove’s wings clung about my heart each night
With surging gentleness, and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.

  • 0
  • 1
  •  
  •  
Login to comment...

Liked or faved by...

Ed Pedraza-Robles
Email

Other works by Hart Crane...

Some poets who follow Hart Crane...

Slone  J Andrew J. Thomas Davide Drenovsky