In whose calm walls, that years spare tenderly,
Dwelleth the rival soul of Faërie
And Music,—one whose very name is spell
Immutable,—for that fixed name is Love.
And Love holds yonder his best festal rite
This evening, when the moontime draweth nigh.
Twain souls love there, and meet; but not as cleft
By late long parting—they have met and loved
Years upon years, since youth; none ever loved
So long as they unparted, unappalled,