XVIII

And I have lost you, so the voices say— Voices that taunt, deride my silent pain; Voices that fall incessant, like the rain Throughout this dim and memory-haunted day! Dear Love, come back, resume your ancient sway For my strong pleading! Or is it in vain That I beneath the stars all night have lain Prone upon earth, clay crying unto clay?

No answer.... O thou God-vacated sky, Thunder upon my head the riving flame! There is no more for me to do but die! Or else for One, whom now I dare not name, At crossroads of the world a watch to keep With those who thither come, a while to weep.