And O most noble, and yet once again Most noble spirit, if I ever did Aught that thy goodness frowns on, be it hid Forever, and deep-buried. Let the rain
Of coming springs fall on the quiet grave. Perchance some violets will grow to tell That I, when uttering this last farewell, Built up a sacrificial architrave;
That I, who worship thee, have love so great, To live in the horizon thou may’st set; To stand but in the shadow of the gate,
Faithful, when coward promptings cry, “Forget.” Ah, lady, when I gave my heart to thee, It passed into thy lifelong regency.