And when we had cursed each other, Passionate, white hot, We still didn’t understand How small the earth can be for two people, And that memory can torment savagely. The anguish of the strong — a wasting disease! And in the endless night the heart learns To ask: Oh, where is my departed lover? And when, through waves of incense, The choir thunders, exulting and threatening, Those same eyes, inescapable, Stare sternly and stubbornly into the soul. |
-From her first collection Evening (1912)
Also, read her poem 'In Memoriam, July 19, 1914' from her third collection, White Flock(1917)
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