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!