Sonnets , Unrealities XI (With The Icelandic Choir)
It may not always be so And I say and if your lips Which I have loved Should touch another's And your dear strong fingers clutch her heart As mine in time not far away
If on another's face your sweet hair lay In such a silence as I know Or such great writhing words as uttering overmuch Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay
If this should be, I say if this should be You of my heart, send me a little word That I may go unto her and take her hands saying Accept all happiness from me Then I shall turn my face And hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands