As our love then, in its oneness,
All its dead past did retrace,
And from that sad moment took
Presage of approaching parting.—
Sorrowful the hour and dark:
Low among the trees, now darting,
Now concealed, a lamp's pale spark—
Like a fen-fire—winked and lured
Shut among the shadows, where
All was doubtful, unassured,