And Love mourned long, and sorrowed after Hope;

At last she sought out memory, and they trod

The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope,

And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears.

II

From that time forth I would not see her more,

But many weary moons I lived alone—

Alone, and in the heart of the great forest.

Sometimes upon the hills beside the sea

All day I watched the floating isles of shade,