My hands have not touched water since your hands,--
No;--nor my lips freed laughter since "farewell."
And with the day, distance again expands
Between us, voiceless as an uncoiled shell.

Yet,--much follows, much endures. . . Trust birds alone:
A dove's wings clung about my heart last night
With surging gentleness; and the blue-stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.

Hart Crane

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