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Hart Crane - Exile

My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, --
No, -- nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell',
And with the day, distance again expands
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.

Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove's wings clung about my heart each night
With surging gentleness, and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 426 times | Comments and analysis of Exile by Hart Crane Comments (45)

Exile - Comments and Information

Poet: Hart Crane
Poem: Exile

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