Eleven Meetings by Julian Gustave Symons

Between nothing and their first meeting
Was the paraphernalia of greeting.
Hand touching on hand, the sudden
Look from which nothing is hidden.

Between their first and tenth meeting
Was a short time but much loving.
The days long and the nights longer,
Till death spoke with gun in his anger.

Between their tenth and last meeting
Was nothing: but at last the weeping
Face with which she regarded sadly
His face looking up at her coldly.

From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=23175

Date: 1942

By: Julian Gustave Symons (1912-1994)

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