Some Broken Things

We both know all the fancy words and tricks
(Dust, gestures, fog, imagination, signs,
Noise, cold, and darkness, and the sun that shines
Within your breast) which each of us must mix
With truth to fashion mortar for the bricks
Of this dark house among the winter pines,
In a bright jungle, rife with hanging vines.
There are some broken things we cannot fix.

Our hearts, beyond saving, we cannot save,
And we should know that neither love nor hate
Rebuilds false hopes which passed into the grave
Silent and proud, assumed their new estate
With modesty, which your own courage gave –
Late praise again, my love. Is it too late?

Our Hearts, part 22