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Even in Love

ISSUE:  Spring 1927

Beloved and alien, gaze with me on the sea:
It kneels before the moon whose crimson blade
Rests on its million shoulders. But for me
The image of that lunar accolade
Is not the one your eyes bring in to you—
It varies by the flinching of a wave,
A widening iris, or a lens more true,
Or, if identical, the fact how prove?
If thus the tangible we may not share,
How hope the gorgeous fabrics of the soul
To spread before each other, or how dare
Another’s undecipherable scroll To con?
Even in love we must confess
No understanding and great loneliness.


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