Poems of Passion Carefully Restrained So as to Offend Nobody XI

The rain that falls upon my heart And on my eyes so wistfully, Will fall again; I shall not start. For it will drop so restfully

On eyes that will be pools of quiet, Upon a heart that will not stir At memories of ancient riot Within the rain's sad dulcimer.

Even as it falls upon the ground, Nor makes the tiniest pebble start, The rain will fall, nor make a sound Of anything within my heart —

Neither of the bitter nor the sweet Of loving you, my dear, my dear — Though all our moments it repeat, I, who have loved you, shall not hear.

I shall but stare upon my heaven Of silent earth and starless stone. Beyond which, grazing sheep at even Find peace no greater than my own.

And I, who love you now, my dear, So wildly that my heart is spent, Think of the time I shall not hear Your voice in rain, and am content.