The Traveler

For H.M.

Tuis was the death you chose.

Not the slow coming to terms, the gradual

Vicissitudes of age. You had no need of those.

You would not tarry here, but you must wander

Up the hard stairways of the earth to find repose,

Above the waterfalls, above the hanging forests.

Rest, rest - high in the mountains where the laurel grows.

From a letter:

"When I saw her for the last time, standing at the top

of the gangplank, I had again that impression of extreme,

of really startling fragility, and I felt some misgiving to

see her set out on such a long trip alone. But she enjoyed

traveling thoroughly, and had taken several long trips in

recent years. I told myself it would probably do her good.