The speaker addresses her husband—lover of my lips, holder of my heart—yet repeats that they are apart. Even though they share a life and close companionship, some essential connection has gone. She describes his fire as cold and still, and says she watches the morning come with dull agony. Their parting silence echoes on hollow ground. The joy she once felt is compared to running wild beside a singing river; now there is no river, no sun, only an old vow. The repeated phrase “we are apart” becomes a dull chant in her mind. The final image—half of my body must be dead—captures how deeply this emotional separation wounds her. The mood is heavy, numb, and quietly grief-stricken.
Married — Summary
Your face from my face slips, Lover of my lips. Holder of my heart, For all our close companionships, We are apart. Apart, apart, we are apart.
Crying beauty leaves me dumb, Your fire, cold and still. I watch the hours of morning come And always will, With this dull agony in my heart — We are apart.
Strong, solemn, stupid-kind; Parting, we leave behind Silence, where our foot-steps sound Dead on the hollow ground.
With a singing river I used to run Wild with wonder: now There is no river, there is no sun, Only an old vow. And this dull chant goes through my head, And this dull moan sinks in my heart: Half of my body must be dead, We are apart.