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Ernest Christopher Dowson - Terre Promise
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Even now the fragrant darkness of her hair
  Had brushed my cheek; and once, in passing by,
  Her hand upon my hand lay tranquilly:
  What things unspoken trembled in the air!

  Always I know, how little severs me
  From mine heart`s country, that is yet so far;
  And must I lean and long across a bar,
  That half a word would shatter utterly?

  Ah might it be, that just by touch of hand,
  Or speaking silence, shall the barrier fall;
  And she shall pass, with no vain words at all,
  But droop into mine arms, and understand!
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