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.