Ah ! night!
To feel the stab of beauty at the heart !
To drink, with lifted throat,
The silent throb and music of the stars,
The first kiss of the spring on spell-bound trees,
To stretch out arms to hold and soothe the world,
— A love too vast in aught to be contained,
Helpless and great : a poet's youthfulness,. . .

Alone, might all this emptiness be you!

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠May first 1915