Estrangement

William Watson

1858 to 1935

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I seem to see an alien shade pass by,
Whene'er your name on some chance lip may lie,
She is a legend emptied of concern,
Through arched and bannered woodlands; while for him
That June on her triumphal progress goes
Conscious of one intelligible Why,
Tacitly sunder—neither you nor I
A spirit wherein I have no lot or part.
So, without overt breach, we fall apart,
From casual speech betwixt his warders, learn
And both, from severance, winning equal smart.
Thus may a captive, in some fortress grim,
And idle is the rumour of the rose.
So, with resigned and acquiescent heart,