When my own legs fall weary, they get heavier and more burdensome. I'm not sure what to make of "our legs grew weary and light as dust."
I'm also not sure why the sight of the other's flaming smile and open eyes "with no plans to close" would be something that "we could not bear to see" that "the other presented." If I saw those things, they would make me more, not less, hopeful about my husband's and my own ability to keep on going for some time yet. But that contradiction of my expectations might be what makes the poem.
Just my $.02.
|