The cloudless sky is strange to me, because
It has estranged itself; had it been here
When in its place the grey and cloudy was,
Then we would be acquainted. But now we're
Quite unaccustomed to each other, for
All of my memories since autumn are
Full of the other sort, and I, therefore,
Because those memories are happy, bar
The cloudless sky its former pride of place
Within my heart. Time was my memories
Of you were tinged with sunlight on your face,
But now they have become by slow degrees
Associated with the dark: and so
To have them back, I'd let this sunlight go.
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