Music I Heard


By Conrad Aiken


Music I heard with you was more than music,
and bread that I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands one touched this table, and this silver,
and I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things donot remember you, beloved,
and yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart you moved among them,
and blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
and in my heart they will remember always,--
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.


For the Butterfly
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