I see the lost Love in beauty Go gliding over the main: I feel the ancient sweetness, The worm and the wormwood again.

Sleep puts out silent fingers, And leads me back to the roar Of the dead salt sea that vomits Wrecks of the past ashore.

Earth all one tomb lies round me, Domed with an iron sky: And God Himself in His power, God cannot save me! I cry.

Let the children play And sit like flowers upon thy grave And crown with flowers,-that hardly have A briefer blooming-tide than they.