Not on the sun, but thee! Doth the light sleep
On the stream tenderly? and are the stems
Of our own elm-trees, by its alchemy,
So richly changed? and is the sweetbrier-scent
Floating around? But I have said farewell,
Farewell to earth, Teresa!—not to thee;
Nor yet to our deep love—nor yet awhile
Unto the spirit of mine art, which flows
Back on my soul in mastery. One last work!
And I will shrine my wealth of glowing thoughts,