COMPLAINT.

I have tried to remember the familiar places,—

The pillared gloom of the beechwoods, the towns by the sea,—

I have tried to people the past with dear known faces,

But you were haunting me.

Like a remorse, insistent, pitiless,

You have filled my spirit, you were ever at hand;

You have mocked my gods with your new loveliness:

Broken the old shrines stand.