That gives not back what life gives death to keep;

Yea, all that lived and loved and sang and sinned

Are all borne down death's cold sweet soundless wind

[Pg 318]

That blows all night and knows not whom its breath,

Darkling, may touch to death:

But one that wind hath touched and changed not,—one

Whose body and soul are parcel of the sun;

One that earth's fire could burn not, nor the sea

Quench; nor might human doom take hold on thee;

All praise, all pity, all dreams have done thee wrong,

All love, with eyes love-blinded from above;

Song's priestess, mad with joy and pain of love,

Love's priestess, mad with pain and joy of song.

Hast thou none other answer then for me

Than the air may have of thee,

Or the earth's warm woodlands girdling with green girth

Thy secret sleepless burning life on earth,

Or even the sea that once, being woman crowned

And girt with fire and glory of anguish round,

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