XVIII

And I have lost you, so the voices say —

Voices that taunt, deride my silent pain;

Voices that fall incessant, like the rain

Throughout this dim and memory-haunted day!

Dear Love, come back, resume your ancient sway

For my strong pleading! Or is it in vain

That I beneath the stars all night have lain

Prone upon earth, clay crying unto clay?

No answer.... O thou God-vacated sky,

Thunder upon my head the riving flame!

There is no more for me to do but die!

Or else for One, whom now I dare not name,

At crossroads of the world a watch to keep

With those who thither come, a while to weep.