They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been reft asunder;
A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.
S. T. Coleridge (Christabel).
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,