‘Exile’ by Hart Crane

‘Exile’

by Hart Crane100_2431

“My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, —
No, — nor my lips freed laughter since ‘farewell’,
And with the day, distance again expands
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.

Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove’s wings clung about my heart each night
With surging gentleness, and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.”

Hart Crane was born on this day in 1899, you can read more of his work through Surrey Libraries.

Take a look at our Words in Focus page for your chance to appear in print.

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