Is it bad to have come here

And to have found the bed empty?

One might have found tragic hair,

Bitter eyes, hands hostile and cold.

There might have been a light on a book

Lighting a pitiless verse or two.

There might have been the immense solitude

Of the wind upon the curtains.

Pitiless verse? A few words tuned

And tuned and tuned and tuned.

It is good. The bed is empty,

The curtains are stiff and prim and still.