The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you. - Sara Teasdale

Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man;
Never fear though it break your heart — Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
Though love be heaven or love be hell.

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
And walking up the long beach all alone
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone.

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me
The cold and sparkling silver of the sea–
We two will pass through death and age lengthen
Before you hear that sound again with me.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken
Before the years can make it wise.