Had shut the gates lest I should see
More than my life could bear.
Yet I had seen her go,
And sight no more could hold of Beauty’s wine.
I had seen the fair face flush,
As the soft curtains of the tinted west,
Are drawn before the temple of the Night,
When the day-worn Sun has passed within;
Had seen the little body, whitely gowned,
Folded within its nest;