Oh, if I could have put you in my heart,
If but I could have wrapped you in myself,
How glad I should have been!  And now the chart
Of your lost face unrolls itself to me–
Or dead, or still, or grieved, or glad, or hurt.

And oh, that you had never, never been
Some of your selves, my love; I would that some
Of your several faces I had never seen!
For still the night through will they come and go
One after each, and show me what they mean.

And oh, my love, as I rock for you tonight,
And have not any longer any hope
Of sweeping out old sorrows with the bright
Sure love that could have helped you through the fight,
I own that some of me is dead tonight.