And hope behind the dusty window-pane
Watches the days go by, and bow’d with care
Forecasts her last reproach and mortal stain.
46
Once I would say, before thy vision came,
My joy, my life, my love, and with some kind
Of knowledge speak, and think I knew my mind
Of heaven and hope, and each word hit its aim.
Whate’er their sounds be, now all mean the same,
Denoting each the fair that none can find;