Again in deeper inward whispers ‘lost!’
But Enoch yearn’d to see her face again;
‘If I might look on her sweet face again
And know that she is happy.’ So the thought
Haunted and harass’d him, and drove him forth, 720
At evening when the dull November day
Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below;
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by 725