Well disciplined nerves at last win out.
My tearful pleas and struggles, all in vain
Were never heard by you. You go about
Your work, the quietly and swift, the pain
Recedes like combers ebbing in the tide.
And I am spent but free to think at last;
To meditate a moment, in the wide
Expanse between the future and the past.
Now I can see how well it all does end;
I could have, from the first been quiet, saved
My strength. It seems that fate did not intend
For either of us to have been enslaved.
And while, behind your back, I died for you,
Somehow, joyously for me, I'm born anew!