I will not shrink—oh! mighty is the tomb,
But one thing mightier, which it cannot quell—
This woman’s heart!
This lone, full, fragile heart!—the strong alone
In love and grief—of both the burning shrine!
Thou, my soul’s friend! with grief hast surely done,
But with the love which made thy spirit mine,
Say, couldst thou part?
I hear the rustling banners; and I hear
The wind’s low singing through the fretted stone.