Of what use then are hands untouching? Yet
Ready with reverent fingers they long
To hold the outline of a face,  and with
Gentlest touch trace the lines there drawn
  Join its story of joy and sorrow
  And write a name on its tomorrow.

Of what use then are eyes unseeing? Which
Beholding not the image of desire
Instead through a shadowed view envision
That vessel which holds the means of fire
  The lessons of a heart engulfed they learn
  The cause of its flame and its call to burn

Of what use then are these things to love? That
Fitfully tosses dreams and walks the floor
In anguish it calls its beloved's name
In hope waits for a hand upon the door
  Refusing the emptiness of its bed
  Seeks now only a place to lay its head