Not knowing in what season this again <br />Not knowing when again the arms outyearning <br />Nor the flung smile in eyes not knowing when <br /> <br />Not sure beyond all doubt of full return <br />Not sure of time now nor the film’s reversal <br />This all done opposite, the waif regathered <br /> <br />Like our lost parents in the blinded song <br />We bag in hand with wandering steps and slow <br />Through suburbs take our solitary way <br /> <br />Not that all clouds are garrisoned and stung <br />Not that horizons loom with coppered legions <br />Not that the year is dark with weird condition <br /> <br />All who parted in all days looked back <br />Saw the white face, the waving. And saw the sea <br />Not knowing in what season this again <br /> <br />For well they knew, the parters in all evenings <br />Druid and Roman and the rocked Phoenician: <br />The blood flows one imposed way, and no other<br /><br />John Frederick Nims<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parting-1940/
