| Where had her sweetness gone? |
| What fanatics invent |
| In this blind bitter town, |
| Fantasy or incident |
| Not worth thinking of, |
| Put her in a rage. |
| I had forgiven enough |
| That had forgiven old age. |
| All lives that has lived; |
| So much is certain; |
| Old sages were not deceived: |
| Somewhere beyond the curtain |
| Of distorting days |
| Lives that lonely thing |
| That shone before these eyes |
| Targeted, trod like Spring. |