Xviii

Out of sight, Out of mind! Could the light Prove unkind?

Can the sun Quite forget What was done Ere he set?

Does the moon When she wanes Leave no tune That remains

In the void Shell of night Overcloyed With her light?

Must the shore At low tide Feel no more Hope or pride,

No intense Joy to be, In the sense Of the sea--

In the pulses Of her shocks It repulses, When its rocks

Thrill and ring As with glee? Has my king Cast off me,

Whom no bird Flying south Brings one word From his mouth?

Not the ghost Of a word. Riding post Have I heard,

Since the day When my king Took away With him spring,

And the cup Of each flower Shrivelled up That same hour,

With no light Left behind. Out of sight, Out of mind!