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Missing him

 Should my treasure come
 my darling step by
 I\'d know him by his coming
 recognize him by his step
 though he were still a mile off
 or two miles away.
 As mist I\'d go out
 as smoke I would reach the yard
 as sparks I would speed
 as flame I would fly;
 I\'d bowl along beside him
 pout before his face.
 I would touch his hand
 though a snake were in his palm
 I would kiss his mouth
 though doom stared him in the face
 I\'d climb on his neck
 though death were on his neck bones
 I\'d stretch beside him
 though his side were all bloody.
 And yet my treasure has not
 his mouth bloody from a wolf
 his hands greasy from a snake
 nor his neck in death\'s clutches:
 his mouth is of melted fat
 his lips are as of honey
 his hands golden, fair
 his neck like a heather stalk.
 
 

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