I SHOULD have cleaved to her who did not dwell In splendour, was not hostess unto kings, But lived contented among simple things, And had a heart, and loved me long and well. Her, too, I loved; and left her -- need I tell? -- For the triumphant light that round you clings; I left her for the Heaven your presence brings; I left her also for the pangs of Hell. I hear the Midnight tolling to the sky. The human tides ebb fast, that broke in foam Far around London's great impassive Dome. Somewhere asleep the happy meadows lie, And sweet is there the savour of the loam. And now, sweet dreams, sweet Lady! -- And good-bye! |