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.