Of her dead loveliness,—which once it glassed,—
That might repeat again my lost romance
In momentary pictures of the past,
While in its depths her image swam in trance.
VI
I did not dream to see the soulless eyes
Of you I hated; nor the lips where lies
And kisses curled: your features,—that were tuned
To all demonic,—smiling up as might
Some deep damnation! while ... my God! I swooned!...