La Figlia che Piange (The Weeping Girl)

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair-
Lean on the garden urn-
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Clasp your flowers to you with pained surprise-
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,
As the mind deserts the body it has used.
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft
Some way we both would understand,
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand

She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers
And I wonder how they should have been together!
I should have lost a gesture and a pose
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.

--T.S. Eliot