My dearest love, although I have not lost you,

Yet when I have been lonely, being apart,

A sudden burst of music at night has tossed you,

As from a rising wave that broke upon my heart,

Into the shining, silent air before me,

Your face a warmth to lay my fingers on.

When I have had almost your lips restore me,

The music has ceased, you that were with me, gone.

Then have I ached with trying to recall you,

With summoning all your vanished loveliness,

And cannot pierce what silences enthrall you,

So have, not you again like music; something less.