Unkind! Thou lovest not Eurydice!”
Was it because so short a time she stayed
Among the dead that she had not grown wise?
Do petty doubts and fears and jealousies,
Vanity, selfishness, the stain and shade
On mortal love, survive the poignant thrust
Which, winnowing souls from out their hindering dust,
Should wake the eyes to see, the heart to trust?
If we came back to those who love us so,
And fain would plead with Heaven for our recall,