When she had left us but a little while, I still could hear the ringing of her voice, Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice. ...
That day--it was the last of many days, Nor could we know when such days might be given Again--we read how Dante trod the ways Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven...
Breathless was she and would not have us part: "Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this." But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart, And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
When winds blow high and leaves begin to fall, And the wan sunlight flits before the blast; When fields are brown and crops are garnered all, And rooks, like mastered ships, drift wide and fast;...