The Poetry Corner

The Last Time

By John Frederick Freeman

For the last time, The last, last time, The last ... All those last times have I lived through again, And every "last" renews itself in pain-- Yes, each returns, and each returns in vain: You return not, the last remains the last, And I remain to cast Weak anchors of my love in shifting sands Of faith:-- The anchors drag, nothing I see save death. Together we Talked and were glad. I could not see That one black gesture menaced you and me! We kissed, and parted; I left you, and was even merry-hearted.... And now my love is thwarted That reaches back to you and searches round, And dares not look on that harsh turfless mound. And that last time We walked together and the air acold Hummed shrill around; the time that you Walked heavily, And I dared not to see, Nor dared you then to speak of what must be. We knew not what the shut days would unfold-- Nay, could not know till all the days were told.... But that last time we walked together, and --And walk no more together, nor clasp hand In hand, just stiffly as we used to do. Never in dreams, O happy, never in stealing dreams We meet; never again I live by night the day's slow-dying pain ... The last, last time, The last-- That time is past; yet in too-golden day My heart goes from me whispering, "Where are you--you--you--you?" And comes back easeless to an easeless breast. But at night I rest Dreamless as derelict ships ride out to sea Empty, and no bird even on the snapp'd mast Pauses: into oblivion her shadow's cast; Into the empty night goes lonely she, And into sleep go--oh, more lonely I.