To a Forgotten Poem of 1935
To leave behind a verse for that sad hour
That watches us at day's edge, lying in wait;
To affix your signature to its grievous date
Of gold and shadow—that was your desire.
With what passion, as twilight deepened, you
Would toil over the peculiar verse
That till the extinction of the universe
Would manifest that hour's peculiar blue!
I don't know if you ever managed it,
My ghostly brother, or if you existed even,
But I am lonesome, and I wish oblivion
Could give back to the days your delicate
Shadow, that it might live in this worn shell
Of words in which the blues of evening dwell.
Collected Poems: 1952-1999, University of
Arkansas Press, ©
2000. Reprinted by permission
of the author.