It is not a cold, passionless century.

For my love, this-
Tears at parting, tremulous smile,
And unbounded courage,
And rinsed clean emails unstained with sorrow.

In days shorn of passion I look
In the pages of books in vain, and
Love I find there, and courage in battle, and unbridled passion, but
Nothing that equals the little walk into
The airport waiting lounge and
Nothing that equals the little wave in
Farewell.