To Arthur Chamberlain

But all that now is over. Dreamers of dreams shall not in me discover Fallen remembrances of Holy Land; Looks in mine eyes, that seem to understand A banished secret; in my common mien, A charmed communion with high things unseen

For all that now is over. Mere merchant of earth's market-place, no lover, I keep the dusty, trodden road of all. Though broken echoes fill the mart, and call Back to my silent memories: down chill air They die away, and leave me to my care.

Since all that now is over, And not at any cost can I recover The abdicated throne, the abandoned crown: I sit me at the heart of the vast town, To wear old love looks down to the dull look, Befitting love unthought on, or forsook.