I know， although when looks meet

    I tremble to the bone，

    The more I leave the door unlatched

    The sooner love is gone，

    For love is but a skein unwound

    Between the dark and dawn.

    A lonely ghost the ghost is

    That to God shall come；

    I—love‘s skein upon the ground，

    My body in the tomb—

    Shall leap into the light lost

    In my mother‘s womb.

    But were I left to lie alone

    In an empty bed，

    The skein so bound us ghost to ghost

    When he turned his head

    Passing on the road that night，

    Mine would walk being dead.