i visited the place where we last met.
nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended,
the fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;
there was no sign that anything had ended
and nothing to instruct me to forget.
the thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees,
singing an ecstasy i could not share,
played cunning in my thoughts. surely in these
pleasures there could not be a pain to bear
or any discord shake the level breeze.
it was because the place was just the same
that made your absence seem a savage force,
for under all the gentleness there came
an earthquake tremor: fountain, birds and grass
were shaken by my thinking of your name.