by Frances Frost
Never a second time this rain, this night.
Never a second time this tree, mist-blown,
Nor this gray light so quick upon the heart;
What things are known briefly, what things touch
The moment into flame, and die,
being too much for the taut heart to bear?
Never these things twice, never a second time
Beauty’s rain-wet lips upon the hair
Gardner Read: The Art of Song
(William Blake, Frances Frost, James Joyce, Gardner Read, Henry Russell, Rabindranath Tagore and Jean Starr Untermeyer)