Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893)

SEER of the triple realm invisible,

When I behold that miserable twain,

By Rimini’s sudden sword of justice slain,

Sweep through the howling hurricane of hell—

Light seems to me to rest upon their gloom,

More than upon this wretched earth above,

Falls on the path of many a living love,

Whose fate may envy their united doom.

There be, who wandering in this world, with heart

Riveted to some other heart for ever,

Past power of all eternity to sever,

The current of this life still drives apart,

Who, with strained eyes, and outstretched arms, and cry

Of bitterest longing, come each other nigh,

To look, to love, and to be swept asunder,

The breathless greeting of their agony

Lost in the pitiless world-storm’s ceaseless thunder.