I shall go back again to the
bleak shore
And build a little
shanty on the sand
In such a way that the extremest band
Of
brittle seaweed shall escape my door
But by a yard or two; and
nevermore
Shall I return to take you by the hand.
I shall be gone to what I understand,
And happier than I ever was before.
The love that stood a
moment in your eyes,
The words that lay a moment on your
tongue,
Are one with all that in a moment dies,
A little under-said and over-sung.
But I shall find the sullen rocks and skies
Unchanged from what they were when I was young.
--from The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems, Edna St. Vincent Millay