Yea, in a moment, An insight that would not die Killed her old endowment Of charm that had capped all nigh, Which vanished to none Like the gilt of a cloud, And showed her but one Of the common crowd. She seemed but a sample Of earth’s poor average kind, Lit up by no ample Enrichments of mien or mind. I covered my eyes As to cover the thought, And unrecognize What the morn had taught. O vision appalling When the one believed-in thing Is seen falling, falling, With all to which hope can cling. Off: it is not true; For it cannot be That the prize I drew Is a blank to me! WEYMOUTH, 1869. FOUR FOOTPRINTS HERE are the tracks upon the sand Where stood last evening she and I— Pressed heart to heart and hand to hand; The morning sun has baked them dry. I kissed her wet face—wet with rain, For arid grief had burnt up tears, While reached us as in sleeping pain The distant gurgling of the weirs. “I have married him—yes; feel that ring; ’Tis a week ago that he put it on . . . A dutiful daughter does this thing, And resignation succeeds anon! “But that I body and soul was yours Ere he’d possession, he’ll never know. He’s a confident man. ‘The husband scores,’ He says, ‘in the long run’ . . . Now, Dear, go!” I went. And to-day I pass the spot; It is only a smart the more to endure; And she whom I held is as though she were not, For they have resumed their honeymoon tour. IN THE VAULTED WAY IN the vaulted way, where the passage turned To the shadowy corner that none could see, You paused for our parting,—plaintively; Though overnight had come words that burned My fond frail happiness out of me. And then I kissed you,—despite my thought That our spell must end when reflection came On what you had deemed me, whose one long aim Had been to serve you; that what I sought Lay not in a heart that could breathe such blame. But yet I kissed you; whereon you again As of old kissed me. Why, why was it so? Do you cleave to me after that light-tongued blow? If you scorned me at eventide, how love then? The thing is dark, Dear. I do not know. IN THE MIND’S EYE THAT was once her casement, And the taper nigh, Shining from within there, Beckoned, “Here am I!” Now, as then, I see her Moving at the pane; Ah; ’tis but her phantom Borne within my brain!— Foremost in my vision Everywhere goes she; Change dissolves the landscapes, She abides with me. Shape so sweet and shy, Dear, Who can say thee nay? Never once do I, Dear, Wish thy ghost away. THE END OF THE EPISODE INDULGE no more may we In this sweet-bitter pastime: The love-light shines the last time Between you, Dear, and me.