The Longest Goodbye

Poemata XXVIII

Is the gleam of memory but greatness
 - is there anything to it all
In the depths of history's lateness
 In the fathoms of man's deepest fall;
The passing images' brightness
 The impression of beauty or height
The sense of a memory of rightness
 In the name the tongue may ignite;
If nostalgia is every virtue
 And time thus a sepia tint
Then at the ringing of curfew
 Then at the sparking of flint--
This history is fading in darkness
 And shadows must course the floor
Even tho' night have no hardness
 Even tho' barred be the door;
Cutting like steel in its slightness
 The future is rent from the past
Tho' memory be grasped with a tightness
 Time and times move by too fast;
Those who are not present with us
 Must pass from fable to lie
Depict us, for you must miss us
 'tis but your longest goodbye.