“I have been combing the sands of my thought for you— You Who left me the trace of your fragrance In lieu of yourself, A pungency as of sandalwood, Or things lain long in lavender, Very faint, But of a stabbing sweetness. Now that I have found you, Your delicate coloring, Which once delighted me, Has faded in the wash of many tides. Yet you can still Sting the tears to my eyes, Little Phrase-someone-said-to-me-long-ago, Who might have meant so much But who meant so little.
But I think— I have untangled you from the seaweed of forgotten things, I think I shall toss you back into the sea!”