And hope for it, or doubt, or fear—­
Lo, hast thou kept thy path or swerved,
We are beside thee in all thy ways,
With our blame, with our praise,
Our shame to feel, our pride to show,
Glad, angry—­but indifferent, no! 
Whether it be thy lot to go, 660
For the good of us all, where the haters meet
In the crowded city’s horrible street;
Or thou step alone through the morass
Where never sound yet was
Save the dry quick clap of the stork’s bill,
For the air is still, and the water still,
When the blue breast of the dipping coot
Dives under, and all is mute. 
So, at the last shall come old age,
Decrepit as befits that stage; 670
How else wouldst thou retire apart
With the hoarded memories of thy heart,
And gather all to the very least
Of the fragments of life’s earlier feast,
Let fall through eagerness to find
The crowning dainties yet behind? 
Ponder on the entire past
Laid together thus at last,
When the twilight helps to fuse
The first fresh with the faded hues, 680
And the outline of the whole,
As round eve’s shades their framework roll,
Grandly fronts for once thy soul. 
And then as, ’mid the dark, a gleam
        Of yet another morning breaks,
And like the hand which ends a dream,
Death, with the might of his sunbeam,
        Touches the flesh and the soul awakes,
Then—­”
                Ay, then indeed something would happen! 
        But what?  For here her voice changed like a bird’s; 690
        There grew more of the music and less of the words;
Had Jacynth only been by me to clap pen
To paper and put you down every syllable
        With those clever clerkly fingers,
        All I’ve forgotten as well as what lingers
In this old brain of mine that’s but ill able
To give you even this poor version
        Of the speech I spoil, as it were, with stammering
        —­More fault of those who had the hammering
        Of prosody into me and syntax 700
        And did it, not with hobnails but tintacks!

But to return from this excursion—­
Just, do you mark, when the song was sweetest,
The peace most deep and the charm completest,
There came, shall I say, a snap—­
        And the charm vanished! 
        And my sense returned, so strangely banished,
And, starting as from a nap,
I knew the crone was bewitching my lady,
With Jacynth asleep; and but one spring made I 710
Down from the casement, round to the portal,
        Another minute and I had entered—­
When the door opened, and more than mortal
        Stood, with a face where to my mind centred
All beauties I ever saw or shall see,
The Duchess:  I stopped as if struck by palsy. 
She was so different, happy and beautiful,