And now I've felt what farewell costs.
I know it as unwounded, dark,
And cruel, aflame with beauty's spark,
Shown once and held, then smothered, lost.
Defenseless, I, to look upon
What calls me here, am left behind,
As if all women were unkind,
Yet small and white, they act as one:
A wave no longer mine, I fear,
A wave again, now faint and slight;
A plum tree which may fade from sight
Just as the cuckoo quits its pier.