To Louise Michel

I cannot take your road, Louise Michel, Priestess of Pity and of Vengeance—no: Down that amorphous gulf I cannot go— That gulf of Anarchy whose pit is Hell. Yet, sister, though my first word is farewell, Remember that I know your hidden woe; Have felt the grief that rends you blow on blow; Have knelt beside you in the murky cell.

You never followed hate (let this atone) Nor knew the wrongs of others from your own: Wild was the road, but Love has always led, So I am silent where I cannot praise; And here now at the parting of the ways, I lay a still hand lightly on your head.