To Louise Michel
I cannot take your road, Louise Michel,
Priestess of Pity and of Vengeance—no:
Down that amorphous gulf I cannot go—
That gulf of Anarchy whose pit is Hell.
Yet, sister, though my first word is farewell,
Remember that I know your hidden woe;
Have felt the grief that rends you blow on blow;
Have knelt beside you in the murky cell.
You never followed hate (let this atone)
Nor knew the wrongs of others from your own:
Wild was the road, but Love has always led,
So I am silent where I cannot praise;
And here now at the parting of the ways,
I lay a still hand lightly on your head.