—But the sudden nip of knives,

The lady aching for her stiffening lord,

The passionate-fearful bride

And beaded pallor clamped to the torment-board,

—Leave they no ghosts, no memories by the stairs?

No sheeted glimmer treading floorless ways?

No haunting melody of lovers’ airs,

Nor stealthy chill upon the noon of days?

No: for the dead and senseless walls have long forgotten

What passionate hearts beneath the grass lie rotten.