When I first sat at your father's table  
And you entered between white curtains  
Your hands more like translucent china  
Than the bowl they held.  
I loved you with a quickening of breath and spirit  
That grew as it heard your voice make soft words.  
But when you lay white against muslin  
With a dead child to wash with tears I loved you more  
You smiled and, trembling, whispered --  
That you loved me -- was I well?  
One cold night we drove through rain in haste  
In fear  
You held the reins and worked beside me in our desperation  
I loved you then with a greatness  
Beyond all previous passion.  
When all the world has screamed at me in my dreams  
And made faces as I died -- Oh Emma --  
You were ever there in those horrible fantasies  
Grasping my hand, your face upon my shoulder  
Whispering -- I love you, I love you.  
  

Perhaps when such hours have disappeared  
I shall clothe myself in spring  
And sing some breeze blown song, alone.  
They shall pass and think me brave  
As I stand watching something in the distance  
That I cannot see.  
  

A certain softness, not cool, but like a lover's breath  
Moves across the garden in one slow whisper  
And warms remembered springs.  
There are the lilacs, expected once with impatient smiles  
Now bringing halted tears  
Are these dusty flags those that felt his step  
Can it be these hands he held and loved to kiss --  
In which he laid blue lilacs with such a look of little boy.