Finis
Now that our love has drifted 
To a quiet close, 
Leaving the empty ache 
That always follows when beauty goes; 
Now that you and I, 
Who stood tip-toe on earth 
To touch our fingers to the sky, 
Have turned away 
To allow our little love to die— 
Go, dear, seek again the magic touch. 
But if you are wise, 
As I shall be wise, 
You will not again 
Love over much.
Credit
              From The Book of American Negro Poetry (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1922), edited by James Weldon Johnson. This poem is in the public domain.
Date Published
              01/22/1922
           
      