Now I am come again, you who have so desired
My coming, why do you look away
from me?
Why does
your cheek burn against me — have I inspired
Such anger as sets your mouth
unwontedly?
Ah, here I sit while you break the music
beneath
Your bow;
for broken it is, and hurting to hear:
Cease then from music — does anguish of absence
bequeath
Me only
aloofness when I would draw near?