In the country whereto I GOI shall not see the face of my friend Nor her hair the color of sunburned grasses;Together we shall not find The land on whose hills bend the new mooning air traversed of birds. What have I thought of love? I have said, "It is beauty and sorrow." I have thought that it would bring me lost delights, and splendors a wind out of old time. . . But there is only the evening here, And the sound of willows Now and again dipping their long oval leaves in the water.-- from "Betrothed

The Blue Estuaries