| |
| HERE lies the woven garb he wore | |
| Of grass he gathered by the shore | |
| Whereon the phantom waves still fret and foam | |
| And sigh along the visionary sand. | |
| ‘Where is he now?’ you cry; ‘What desolate land | 5 |
| Gleams round him in dull mockery of home?’ | |
| |
| You knew him by the robe he cast | |
| About him, grey and worn at last. | |
| ‘It fades,’ you murmur, ‘changes, lives and dies. | |
| Why has he vanished? Whither is he fled? | 10 |
| And is there any light among the dead? | |
| Can any dream come singing where he lies?’ | |
| |
| Ah peace! lift up your clouded eyes, | |
| Nor where this curious relic lies | |
| Grope in the blown dust for the print of feet. | 15 |
| Dim, tottering, ghastly sounds are these; but he | |
| Laughs now as ever, still aloof and free, | |
| Eager and wild and passionate and fleet. | |
| |
| Because he has dropped the part he played, | |
| Shall love be baffled and dismayed? | 20 |
| Let the frail earth and all its visions melt, | |
| And let the heart that loves, the eye that sees, | |
| Seek him amid immortal mysteries, | |
| For lo, he dwells where he has ever dwelt. | |
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