XI
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s to some lovely temple, tenantlessLong since, that once was sweet with shivering brass,Knowing well its altars ruined and the grassGrown up between the stones, yet from excessOf grief hard driven, or great loneliness,The worshipper returns, and those who passMarvel him crying on a name that was,--So is it now with me in my distress.Your body was a temple to Delight;Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled,Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move;Here might I hope to find you day or night,And here I come to look for you, my love,Even now, foolishly, knowing you are dead.
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