Sunday, August 17, 2014

On The Eve Of A Second Marriage

Will it be possible for me to kneel
Beside this other man and take our vow?
What quickening of memory will I feel?
What thoughts have I left, dormant up to now?
There are a thousand little things I fear;
The scent of roses, sunlight through a pane,
The look of him who holds me far more dear
Than you would hold me, were you here again.
"Till death. . . I take thee. . . cherish… love. . . to keep,"
Oh God, if just the words were not the same!
I am afraid that I will stand, and weep
And finding you not there, cry out your name.


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