The Veil

How can I let you know that I am near— I who am reckoned with the vanished dead? The veil that falls between us now, most dear, Is wrought of stuff through which no word is said. But still I see your tears, and in the dark Beyond your reach—I hear you call my name; Your loveliness, where grief has set its mark Burns my strange peace away, as with a flame. Then, sometimes—sometimes when the sea-winds blow I find release, and on their wings pass by. How can I tell you? Will you never know That it is not the wind alone—but I? God does not send me far. He bids me wait Until you come—though it be soon or late.