It hurt me, the thing you did, and left me with shallow’d breath;
You are still standing when for trusting you I am all but dead.
I know not how it was that your presence became the sun of my life
When mine was but the moon of yours,
Cast out and away into the silent dark
But anchored still with invisible cords.
Yet as the good lady and saintly from Norwich did put it:
T’is well, all of it, and doubly:
For if the ravages of life and time should a shadow put between us,
If you should forget my name
And remember no more what I am to you
Nor even what we might have been –
Better that the end come now than later;
That I not wait upon the humiliating push.
Though I must say my farewell I hope you’ll recall
That promise I made that night:
Never before were you so purely loved and never again shall you.
I loved you breadth and width and shadows all,
But you loved only you.