‘Not so,’ I said:  ’to-morrow shall be sweet;
  To-night is not so sweet as coming days.’ 70
Then first I saw that he had turned his feet,
  Had turned from me his face: 

Running and flying miles and miles he went,
  But once looked back to beckon with his hand
And cry:  ’Come home, O love, from banishment: 
  Come to the distant land.’

That night destroyed me like an avalanche;
  One night turned all my summer back to snow: 
Next morning not a bird upon my branch,
  Not a lamb woke below,—­ 80

No bird, no lamb, no living breathing thing;
  No squirrel scampered on my breezy lawn,
No mouse lodged by his hoard:  all joys took wing
  And fled before that dawn.

Azure and sun were starved from heaven above,
  No dew had fallen, but biting frost lay hoar: 
O love, I knew that I should meet my love,
  Should find my love no more.

‘My love no more,’ I muttered stunned with pain: 
  I shed no tear, I wrung no passionate hand, 90
Till something whispered:  ’You shall meet again,
  Meet in a distant land.’

Then with a cry like famine I arose,
  I lit my candle, searched from room to room,
Searched up and down; a war of winds that froze
  Swept through the blank of gloom.

I searched day after day, night after night;
  Scant change there came to me of night or day: 
‘No more,’ I wailed, ‘no more:’  and trimmed my light,
  And gnashed but did not pray, 100

Until my heart broke and my spirit broke: 
  Upon the frost-bound floor I stumbled, fell,
And moaned:  ’It is enough:  withhold the stroke. 
  Farewell, O love, farewell.’

Then life swooned from me.  And I heard the song
  Of spheres and spirits rejoicing over me: 
One cried:  ’Our sister, she hath suffered long.’—­
  One answered:  ’Make her see.’—­

One cried:  ’Oh blessed she who no more pain,
  Who no more disappointment shall receive.’—­ 110
One answered:  ’Not so:  she must live again;
  Strengthen thou her to live.’

So while I lay entranced a curtain seemed
  To shrivel with crackling from before my face;
Across mine eyes a waxing radiance beamed
  And showed a certain place.

I saw a vision of a woman, where
  Night and new morning strive for domination;
Incomparably pale, and almost fair,
  And sad beyond expression. 120

Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem,
  Were stately like the stars, and yet were tender;
Her figure charmed me like a windy stem
  Quivering and drooped and slender.

I stood upon the outer barren ground,
  She stood on inner ground that budded flowers;
While circling in their never-slackening round
  Danced by the mystic hours.