Sonnets / Unrealities XI

Sonnet/Unrealities XI
It may not always be so
And I say that if your lips
Which I have loved
Should touch another's
And your dear strong fingers clutch his heart
As mine in time not far away
If on another's face your sweet hair lay
In such a silence as I know
Or such great writhing words, as uttering overmuch
Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay

If this should be, I say if this should be
You of my heart, send me a little word
That I may go unto her, and take her hands saying
Accept all happiness from me
Then I shall turn my face
And hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands