By John Shaw Neilson
Shall we assault the pain?
It is the time to part:
Let us of Love again
Eat the impatient heart.
There is a gulf behind
Dull voice and fallen lip,
The blue smoke of the mind,
The gray light on the ship.
Parting is of the cold
That stills the loving breath,
Dimly we taste the old
The pitiless meal of Death.