Return

Rent in twain by a mountain stream
A rill buffeted by boulders
Presentiment struck like a knight’s dint
Through muscle, the spirit’s receptacle
Oh! But I lived a tenant of Abigail’s life!
Coward I was, and the two
Sundered until my death

Ruth, take my boat to my true Love in August.
Tether it to the quay
Until my body loamy
My memory effaced
When I may return acumen