After Her Going
THE after-even! Ah, did I walk,Indeed, in her or even?For nothing of me or aroundBut absent She did leaven,Felt in my body as its soul,And in my soul its heaven.
‘Ah me! my very flesh turns soul,Essenced,’ I sighed, ‘with bliss!’And the blackbird held his lutany,All fragrant-through with bliss;And all things stilled were as a maidSweet with a single kiss.
For grief of perfect fairness, eveCould nothing do but smile;The time was far too perfect fair,Being but for a while;And ah, in me, too happy griefBlinded herself with smile!
The sunset at its radiant heartHad somewhat unconfest:The bird was loath of speech, its songHalf-refluent on its breast,And made melodious toyings withA note or two at best.
And she was gone, my sole, my Fair,Ah, sole my Fair, was gone!Methinks, throughout the world ’twere rightI had been sad alone;And yet, such sweet in all things’ heart,And such sweet in my own!