In my heart, a false fable starts
That 'tween two friends, so fair, so fast,
No rill of envy could ever pass,
No trickle winter could make crack.
Our summer was a million days
That on two shared pulses shone;
What was thought in the heart of one
The other's tongue found fit to praise.
Autumn's harvests had us chasing feasts
In distant dales neither knew;
The same sun and moon we saw
Overlooked our separate trysts.
December should have seen us come
Sharing triumphs round the table
Laughter-laden as a fable,
Strong in joy to a single home.
Too-far our wayfaring had swum,
Crests and valleys and the green roar
Held us apart forevermore,
Derelict, adrift, who had clung.
Iron frost the great granite breaks,
Too-cold sap splits the broadest tree
In solemn singularity;
Alone falls the proudest rock.