Our three long and spacious days
Rounded with their summer skies
Above the sea among
The islands of the hills, where, standing
Upon the morning's tufted height, we saw
Across the valleys of the afternoon, our distant
Goal of evening resting on a point
Stretched into the waves,
Are dropped like unknown lives in oceans
To complete their oblivion--
Spiral journeys to happiness made short
As a past or passing thought.
What can I do, now I return, to hold
Against the present their little memory?
From the rhythm of the country-drinking body
What muscle asserts happiness against
The anxiety of the city?
What words we spoke sustain their singing birds
Against the printed flood of words?
What peace we gave each other signs
Away the storm of wars?