The Desk's Dry Wood

(TO JAMES WELCH) Dear Desk, Farewell! I spoke you oft In phrases neither sweet nor soft, But at the end I come to see That thou a friend hast been to me, No flatterer but very friend. For who shall teach so well again The blessed lesson-book of pain, The truth that souls that would aspire Must bravely face the scourge and fire, If they would conquer in the end? Two days! Shall I not hug thee very close? Two days, And then we part upon our ways. Ah me! Who shall possess thee after me? O pray he be no enemy to poesy, To gentle maid or gentle dream. How have we dreamed together, I and thou, Sweet dreams that like some incense wrapt us round The last new book, the last new love, The last new trysting-ground. How many queens have ruled and passed Since first we met; how thick and fast The letters used to come at first, how thin at last; Then ceased, and winter for a space! Until another hand Brought spring into the land, And went the seasons' pace. And now, Dear Desk, thou knowest for how long time I have no queen but song: Yea, thou hast seen the last love fade, and now Behold the last of many a secret rhyme!