Of her whose silent footfall’s music fair
Sounds sweeter, and whose face sheds beams more bright
Than the noisy flash of the chariot-fight,
Or tramp of footmen on their glittering way
When Lydia’s force deploys in full display.
Too well we know ’tis not for man to gain
His heart’s desire,—yet sweeter the pain,
Longing for love we once have shared,
Than forgetting how happily then we fared.
(D. M. R.)