REGRET

I would that I were again a child

        And a child you sweet and pure,

That we might be free and wild

        In our consciousness obscure;

That we might play fantastic games

        Under trees silent and shady,

That we might have fairy-book names,

        I be a lord, you a lady.

And all were a strong ignorance

        And a healthy want of thought,

And many a [prank?], many a dance

        Our unresting feet had wrought;

And I would act well a clown's part

        To your childish laughter winning,

And I would call you my sweetheart

        And the name would have no meaning.

Or sitting close we each other would move

        With tales that now gone are sad;

We would have no sex, would feel no love,

        Good without fighting the bad.

And a flower would be our life's delight

        And a nutshell boat our treasure:

We would lock it in a cupboard at night

        As in memory a pleasure.

We would spend hours and days like a wealth

        Of goodness too great to cloy,

We would deep enjoy innocence and health

        Knowing not we did enjoy...

Ah, what bitterest is is that-alone

        Now one feeling in me I trace -

That knowledge of what from us hath gone

        And of what it left in its place.