Helen Hoyt

From “The Harp”

OH we shall meet,

But how shall be that meeting?

Oh we shall meet,

But there is no repeating

The look, the word, the laugh that used to be—

There is no meeting now for you and me.

We shall be there—in the room together, near—

But the old delight that made old meetings dear

Will not return, the leaping of will to will:

Only a husky word, a trembling that tries to be still;

And we shall look at each other then, unbelieving the past,

Knowing that even our sorrow could not last.