Ne’er wept beneath the skies.
Thou walkest thy many worlds,[[196]] thou seest
The face of him who made thee great,
As he hath made of me the least
Of those cast out from Eden’s gate;
Yet, Seraph, dear!
Oh hear!
For thou hast loved me, and I would not die
Until I know what I must die in knowing,
That thou forgettest in thine eternity