To My Despoiler

Yes, you have taken everything from me: Beauty and love and all the measureless Impatience of proud April; even our sea Shouting under the gulls; all loveliness Of form and sound and colour; all that we Had touched; the curve of things we used to press Glowing against our senses; mystery And movement. . . everything taken. . . taken. . . Yes, Even the little brave irrelevancies Like brooding water, dripping water-cress, The cool dark noise of cropping; cruising bees On hot gold expeditions--even these You took from me--Oh spare me your caress, Leave me at least my own stark loneliness!