Deserted Poem by Harriet Monroe

O Love, my love, it's over then—
Your heart flies free;
And it's now no more us two again,
The door on you and me.
And it's now no more the supper spread,
The stove singing low.
Oh, worlds away your feet are led,
Where wild winds blow!

Oh, seas between and worlds away
Our paths run now.
Go, for more dead than coffined clay
Is love's dead vow.
Go, may your bread be sweet, your rest
As soft and deep be
As when you slept upon my breast
And gave the world for me.

Go, for my heart cries out with pain,
With joy cries out.
Go ! you've unwound the golden chain—
Love's hope, love's doubt.
Go! you were mine—now mine shall be
The whole brave world.
My spirit flutters and is free,
With wings unfurled.

Out of my little house of bliss,
O lost love sweet,
Out of my grief and loneliness
Now will I rise to greet
My friend who begs in the street below,
My friend who prays above;
And each will be—oh, well I know!—
You—you, lost love.