In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour, <br />When in the firelight steadily aglow, <br />Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow <br />Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower <br />That eve was left to us: and hushed we sat <br />As lovers to whom Time is whispering. <br />From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing: <br />The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. <br />Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay <br />With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes! <br />Love dies!" I said: I never thought it less. <br />She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. <br />Then when the fire domed blackening, I found <br />Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift <br />Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:-- <br />Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound!<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xvi-in-our-old-shipwrecked-days/
