Dear heart, young man in your prime,
Your heart in brass and paper you bind,
Where heroes and loves of glorious time
Cavort on the page and dance in the mind;
Living safely within in their paper confines,
And under their covers, unalterable, keep.
And loves for the art and grammar of signs
Enthrall your sense, yet you still breathe
Dry air in a dry room, because you pine
For permanence. I, unseen, already dread
The day you awake and suddenly find
That those whom you chose were already dead.
Then, darling, drought in heart and in brain,
Remember my name as you wait for the rain.