That dream had end. Once more I saw her face:
No love it looked: the sweet lips breathed no sound:
Then fell I, stone-like, through the fields of space,
And lay, dead bulk, upon the bleeding ground.
IX.
River that windest in thy jewell'd bed,
The palms of her soft feet beside thee move:
But gentleness and peace are round thee spread,
And therefore I am gone from what I love.
Nightly on thee the stars thou lov'st shall gaze: