I <br /> <br />We chose the faint chill morning, friend and friend, <br />Pacing the twilight out beneath an oak, <br />Soul calling soul to judgement; and we spoke <br />Strange things and deep as any poet penned, <br />Such truth as never truth again can mend, <br />Whatever arts we win, what gods invoke; <br />It was not wrath, it made nor strife nor smoke: <br />Be what it may, it had a solemn end. <br />Farewell, in peace. We of the selfsame throne <br />Are foeman vassals; pale astrologers, <br />Each a wise sceptic of the other's star. <br />Silently, as we went our ways alone, <br />The steadfast sun, whom no poor prayer deters. <br />Drew high between us his majestic bar. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Mine was the mood that shows the dearest face <br />Thro' a long avenue, and voices kind <br />Idle, and indeterminate, and blind <br /> <br />As rumors from a very distant place; <br />Yet, even so, it gathered the first chase <br />Of the first swallows where the lane's inclined, <br />An ebb of wavy wings to serve my mind <br />For round Spring's vision. Ah, some equal grace <br />(The calm sense of seen beauty without sight) <br />Befell thee, honorable heart! no less <br />In patient stupor walking from the dawn; <br />Albeit thou too wert loser of life's light, <br />Like fallen Adam in the wilderness, <br />Aware of naught but of the thing withdrawn.<br /><br />Louise Imogen Guiney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/friendship-broken/
