Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 231
CCXXXI
Only a little shall we speak of thee,
And not the thoughts we think;
There, where thou art—and art not—words would be
As stones that sink.
And not the thoughts we think;
There, where thou art—and art not—words would be
As stones that sink.
We shall not see each other for thy face,
Nor know the silly things we talk upon.
Only the heart says, She was in this place,
And she is gone."
Nor know the silly things we talk upon.
Only the heart says, She was in this place,
And she is gone."