Daryl Hine(b. 1936)
Letting Go
I loved you first the time I saw you last,
I knew you best before I let you go.
All the misapprehensions of the past
Dissipated in an hour or so,
Naked to the h u m a n eye you lay
Candid as a cadaver on the couch
I could have slept on, but I went away
Ashamed to stay, afraid almost to touch.
Lost, you seemed the only vivid thing
In a world made moribund and flat
By worldliness. Renunciations bring
Their own reward, apparently, like that
Last look of yours, ironical or tender,
A valediction and a benediction,
W h i c h endless reruns will not soon surrender,
T h e indispensable, improper fiction
Of your unforgettable perfection.