III.

And while he sate, nor saw, nor sigh'd,--drew near A timorous trembling step;--from the far clime The Pilgrim Woman came: long year on year, In brain-sick thought that takes no heed of time, How had she pined to gaze upon that brow Last seen in youth, when she was young:--AND NOW! And now! O words that make the sepulchre Of all our Past! Life sheds no sadder tear Than, when recalling what the Hours inter Of hopes, of passions, of the things that made Our hearts once quicken with tumultuous bliss, We feel what worlds within ourselves can fade, Sighing "And now!"--Alas the nothingness Even of love--had it no life but this!