........Custom may hold from me your words;

It cannot check

Your living kindness or my wish-borne birds

That no dooms wreck.

Of you unwitting, sleep is a mock of sand

No clear dream lights ;

I'll fashion like to you, with sleepless hand,

My days and nights.

A bridge no more, earth's but a prison wall

That keeps you far ?

O may those thresholds where your footsteps fall

Be void of mar.