When it is Done

When it is done, go far from me;

I would not hear your name.

(Those syllables that ran my blood

Like winged tips of flame).

Let miles divide us, lest, one day

We should just chance to meet

And speak, like casual strangers,

Upon a busy street...

When it is done, then cut the cord

And loose the raveled ends -

For friends can turn to lovers -

But lovers not to friends...