Well, to go on, a widow in my church Young, beautiful and rich began to beat Her wings around my flame, and on the Sunday I preached about the rich young man, she came, Invited me to dinner. We commenced, Were married in six months. And to conserve Her properties I studied law, at last Was spending days with brokers, business men, Began to tell her that my health was failing, Saw doctors frequently to play the part. And then she said: You must resign your charge, Your health is breaking, dear. And I resigned To spend the time in checking mortgages, Collecting rents:--"They'd never know me now"... We went the round of summer places, travel, Saw Europe, China, India and the Isles. Near Florence had a villa for a time, Met people of all kinds, when I was forty I had a thousand selves, but if I had A self in truth it was submerged or scrawled Like a palimpsest all over and so lost. I didn't know myself, was anything To every one, and everything to all. I felt the walking age come on me now: A polar bear in a terrible rhythm swings His body back and forth behind the bars, And I would walk in restlessness or think Of other skies and places, teased and stung By memories of my other selves, by wonder About what may be happening here or there; What are they doing now? What is she doing? There were a dozen shes to wonder about, And if you think of one you wish to see, And dream she knows delight apart from you, You simply thrill, the wings you lost revolve, Like thumbs, vestigial stubs--but there you sit. Thank God the aeroplane came on to help, And wipe out distance, for you find at last Distance is tragedy, terrifies the soul With space which must be mastered by the soul. And so I bought a hydroplane. Perhaps Would be upon my lawn at sun-down holding These children on my knees, a lovely picture! Then as a fish darts out of darkened water Into a water sun-lit, there would come A thought--we'll say of Alice--in two hours I'd be upon her little sleeping porch Two hundred miles away, beneath the stars Of middle summer, having killed that space, And found the hour I wanted--hearing too "They'd never know me now" sung in my ears. And I remember when we were in Florence My tribe had gone to Milan for some weeks, And I was quite alone, too bored to live. One listless afternoon who should come in? My wife's friend Constance--but to tell the truth More friend of mine than hers, for all my life I seemed to have these secret understandings, And was two persons to a twain who thought They were the bond, whereas the bond existed Between myself and one, and to the other Was not so much as dreamed.