For one moment, you lived
Lived in the knowledge of death.
As the snow falls through the universe,
One look, one form at the garden's edge, one poor boy
Told you of life's mystery, and was gone.
All that is left is already dead:
Routine, drudgery, husbands, parties, speeches:
Only music remains to voice
The true shape of memory, of the sorrow that is your soul.
Such love will not come to you again:
Its absence will fall
Through the depths of all being
Through all of your days.