Our world has spun ten circles round the light Since here she vanished. In my helpless gaze, To mark the spot, was fixed this carven stone, Raw, garish, stolidly obtrusive then, Now harmonising kindly with the rest. A spray of centipedal ivy creeps From death to birth, and reaches to her name; With kisslike touch its tender leaflets feel The letter’s edge,—I scarce can think it chance.

Now scene by scene that strange old long-ago, Crowding my opened memory, presents Tumultuous, as in dreams, some dreadful state Wherein I knew not falsehood from the truth; p. 128Where hope ascending struck the star of Love, Then fell down headlong grovelling in despair; But rose at length and walked the beaten way. So dim and far these things; so worn and changed, I scarcely feel that I am he who sought And won her love. And is it true indeed, That I absorbed in tenderest intercourse Of trustful glance, and trustful clasping hands, With her went wandering by the river side; While over head melodious branches sang, Scattering the gold of sunset-dazzled flowers Breathing their perfumed sweetness from our path, That flickering went to where in purple woods The rugged church tower burned a wall of fire!

p. 128

Did I, when silence awed the winter woods, And giant shadows trenched the frosty ground From bole and limb whose vault held in the night, Love to behold the full-grown magic moon Cast splendour glittering on the silver rime? Yes; mid the notes and emerald flush of spring, p. 129With swollen brooks exulting through the fields, And rainy wind that in an ocean-roar Bore down the forest tops the livelong day, Through straggling gleams, through random wafts of shade, Rejoicingly I trod the glistening paths. Yes, I it was, in dreamy golden haze, Beheld poor men hard toiling all the hours, And thought them happier than the birds that sang, That sang and trilled in gurgles of delight.

p. 129

Dallying I loitered in the golden time Long after the loved nightingale had ceased To pour his passionate impulse over plains Of shivering corn, now ripened into wealth; When sunset-coloured fruit in orchard crofts Hung slowly mellowing under azure noons; And, hushed in darkened leaves, the dreaming air Swelled gently to a whispering sound, and died. With joy I wandered on from knoll to knoll p. 130And lost in marvel, drank the lisping winds, The fairy winds that lisped me all was good. Nor marked I when the clogged horizon flew In dusky vapour crowding up the skies; But woke anon when deathlike pallor thrown From wrathful drift laid the whole land in gloom; When war, enormous war, broke 

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