Camaraderie
“E tuttoque io fosse a la campagnia di molti, quanto alla vista.”
SOMETIMES I feel thy cheek against my face
Close-pressing, soft as is the South’s first breath
That all the subtle earth-things summoneth
To spring in woodland and in meadow space.
Yea sometimes in a bustling man-filled place
Meseemeth some-wise thy hair wandereth
Across mine eyes, as mist that halloweth
The air awhile and giveth all things grace.
Or on still evenings when the rain falls close
There comes a tremor in the drops, and fast
My pulses run, knowing thy thought hath passed
That beareth thee as doth the wind a rose.