Arthur Henry Adams (6 December 1872 – 4 March 1936 / Lawrence / New Zealand)

“AND have I changed?” she asked, and as she spoke
The old smile o'er her pale face bravely broke,
And in her eyes dead worlds of pathos woke.
Changed? When I knew again the ghost of each
Remembered trick of gesture, manner, speech,
And felt the beauty that no years could reach!
“I will go back with you without regret,
For not one word you spoke I dare forget,
And with each kiss of yours I tremble yet!”
“No, you have taken your way; I took mine:
A word may not our severed lives entwine,
Nor will a kiss the shattered years combine!”
She put her arms around me, held me near;
Then forward to her lonely path and drear
She turned her sad, wan face, without a tear.