XIX

Last night — or was it in the golden morn —

Once more I dreamed that I alone did fare

Forth into spirit-silences; and there

I found you not; my star was set! Forlorn,

I sought the kindred company of worn

And stricken souls — lost, sundered souls, who bear

Old and avoided crosses with each care

Woven together in their crowns of thorn.

Gods of the patient, vain endeavour, these

Claimed me and called me fellow, comrade, friend,

And bade me join in their brave litanies;

Because, though I had failed you, I dared bend

Before you without hope of one reward,

Save that in loving you my soul still soared.