Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)

TWO separate divided silences,

Which, brought together, would find loving voice;

Two glances which together would rejoice

In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;

Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;

Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,

Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;

Two souls, the shores wave-mocked of sundering seas:—

Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast

Indeed one hour again, when on this stream

Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam?—

An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,—

Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,

Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.