La Figlia Che Piange by T.S. Eliot

       O quam te memorem Virgo...
     Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—
     Lean on a garden urn—
     Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—
     Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise—
     Fling them to the ground and turn
     With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
     But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

     So I would have had him leave,
     So I would have had her stand and grieve,
     So he would have left
     As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
     As the mind deserts the body it has used.
     I should find
     Some way incomparably light and deft,
     Some way we both should understand,
     Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand.

     She turned away, but with the autumn weather
     Compelled my imagination many days,
     Many days and many hours:
     Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
     And I wonder how they should have been together!
     I should have lost a gesture and a pose.
     Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
     The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.

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