I

Hail, Dearest! could verse make you live again I’d rise with pallid-circled dawn to write Until the veiled, the jealous hand of night (Like Death that snatched you from the world of men) Cloud up my thought and tracery of my pen. Then would I burn the gentle candle-light Till, fading spectre, sank each tall mast white And cold stars lent their brilliant lanterns.... Then Should slumber only hold me till a dream Brought new enraptured rhythm--new song to give Through vision of your soul’s transcendent flame. Youth, life, and love, should harness to the theme Draw to Olympus--pleading Jove for Fame. Oh Dearest, if my verse could make you live!