The Painter of the Scene

Twenty years since, your pale, distinguished face,

Full of despair, the face of one heart-broken,

Was turned to mine; we muttered and shook hands.

Contact of twenty seconds in two lives.

If I had known, that after twenty years,

My heart would ache to have again those seconds,

To thank you for the marvel of your gift,

Might I have changed that look still haunting me?

John Masefield