To make him sure, leaving him and his wings
To fly wherever they would. “You do not say
How far I shall be flying, or for how long,”
He told her then, “and that’s as well for me.
As for the best, I know no more of that
Than I see in your face and in your love
That looks at me. Love, it was far from here
And far from England and this inchmeal world
That our wings lifted us to let us fly
Where time forgot us. He waited for us here,
But his wings were too old to follow us.
We shall not go so far away from here
Again, till we go farther. It is enough
For me that you should ask if it was so,
And ask it with these eyes.”
To fly wherever they would. “You do not say
How far I shall be flying, or for how long,”
He told her then, “and that’s as well for me.
As for the best, I know no more of that
Than I see in your face and in your love
That looks at me. Love, it was far from here
And far from England and this inchmeal world
That our wings lifted us to let us fly
Where time forgot us. He waited for us here,
But his wings were too old to follow us.
We shall not go so far away from here
Again, till we go farther. It is enough
For me that you should ask if it was so,
And ask it with these eyes.”
“I would to God
That we might fly together away from here,
Like two birds over the sea,” she murmured then,
And her words sang to him. “The sea was never
So still as it is now, and the wind never
So dead. It is like dying, and not like death.
No, do not say things now. This is not you,
That we might fly together away from here,
Like two birds over the sea,” she murmured then,
And her words sang to him. “The sea was never
So still as it is now, and the wind never
So dead. It is like dying, and not like death.
No, do not say things now. This is not you,
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