A Glory Gone

What is my thought of you, beloved one,

Now you have passed from me and gone your ways?

Glory is gone with you from stars and sun,

And all wise meaning from the nights and days.

There is no colour, no delight, no praise

In the deep forest, where your dear eyes shone,

Nor any dryad face with cheeks ablaze

To paint the glades grown sere as Avalon.

--What is my thought of you? No thought have I

But just to weep the pity of lost things,

Grieve with the wind, and rain tears with the rain.

The sun may smile, who knows, in a blue sky,

To--morrow? But to--day Hope's passionate wings

Are folded and Love waits on only Pain.