[BNP/E3, 16A – 53]

40

Far Away

Far away, far away,

     Far away from here.

There's no running after joy

     Or away from fear.

Very far from here.

Her lips were not very red

     Nor her hair quite gold.

Her hands played with rings

     She did not let me hold.

Her hands playing with gold.

She is somewhere past,

     Far away from pain.

Joy can touch not her nor hope

     Enter her domain

Neither hope in vain.

Perhaps at some day beyond

     Shadows and light,

She will think of me and smile

     Without delight

Far away from sight.     15-3-1917.