And on her eyelids fallen unaware
The shadow as of passing tears doth lie!
Of tears unwept, born of an unknown care
That dwells beyond the flight of memory.
Ah, sweet, into thy beauty there could come
No better thing: the earth that holds thy feet
Must bring earth’s stain upon them where they meet
The path not made for thee—and the wind’s breath
That speaks not unto others but is dumb,
Whispers to thee of Life and Love and Death.