Is It The Hour? We Leave This Resting-Place Made Fair By One Another For A While. Now, For A God-Speed, One Last Mad Embrace; The Long Road Then, Unlit By Your Faint Smile. Ah! The Long Road! And You So Far Away! Oh, I'll Remember! But . . . Each Crawling Day Will Pale A Little Your Scarlet Lips, Each Mile Dull The Dear Pain Of Your Remembered Face. . . . Do You Think There'S A Far Border Town, Somewhere, The Desert'S Edge, Last Of The Lands We Know, Some Gaunt Eventual Limit Of Our Light, In Which I'll Find You Waiting; And We'll Go Together, Hand In Hand Again, Out There, Into The Waste We Know Not, Into The Night?