Each a wise sceptic of the other’s star.
Silently, as we went our ways alone,
The steadfast sun, whom no poor prayer deters,
Drew high between us his majestic bar.
II
Mine was the mood that shows the dearest face
Thro’ a long avenue, and voices kind
Idle, and indeterminate, and blind
As rumors from a very distant place;
Yet, even so, it gathered the first chase