It may not always be so; and I say That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch His 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 to him, and take his hands, Saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then I shall turn my face, and hear one bird Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.