It may not always be so; and I say
That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch
Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
His heart, As mine in time not far away;
If on another's face your sweet hair lay
In such a silence as I know, or such
Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

If this should be, I say if this should be-
You of my heart, send me a little word;
That I may go unto him, and take his hands,
Saying, accept all happiness from me.
Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird
Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

~E.E. Cummings