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Your love has come between us like a bar;
Your fire has burned away our old content;
And I can find no laughter where you are,
Since lips were made for more than merriment.
We found still beauty in a quiet star
When once upon dear, friendly ways we went;
Now stumbling words such still communions mar,
And silence hurts the heart when words are spent.


Once the quick, comrade pressure of my hand
Told you my thought; yet now I dare not move
To silent language, lest you understand
More than I ever meant: Oh, what is love
That steals a flower and leaves a restless fire
And friends divided by a keen desire?