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In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,
When in the firelight steadily aglow,
Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow
Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower
That eve was left to us: and hushed we sat
As lovers to whom Time is whispering.
From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing:
The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat.
Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay
With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes!
Love dies!" I said: I never thought it less.
She yearned to me that sentence to unsay.
Then when the fire domed blackening, I found
Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift
Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:--
Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound!
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"Modern Love XVI: In Our Old Shipwrecked Days" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/15530/modern-love-xvi:-in-our-old-shipwrecked-days>.