| Some may have blamed you that you took away |
| The verses that could move them on the day |
| When,
the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind |
| With lightning, you went from me, and I could find |
| Nothing to make a song about but kings, |
| Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things |
| That were like
memories of you—but now |
| We’ll out, for the world lives as long ago; |
| And while we’re in our laughing,
weeping fit, |
| Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit. |
| But, dear, cling close to me; since you were
gone, |
| My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone. |