When through absence into sudden beds
You fall to ward
Off darkness and to share
For habit’s sake some human warmth,
If who is now gone in dream returns
To ignite some loss and make
The hand that reaches seem
Blind, ignorant of your suffering,
Then, with a larger sympathy than once you owned,
Must you now turn, else all dark is yours
And beds, forever blind,
Will make within them wars.
Whatever’s touched, shoulder, thigh or breast,
With some uncommon pain will burn
When for love you’re asked to pay in kind,
And find you are not strong enough to turn.