Why did you give no hint that night br That quickly after the morrow's dawn, br And calmly, as if indifferent quite, br You would close your term here, up and be gone br Where I could not follow br With wing of swallow br To gain one glimpse of you ever anon! br br Never to bid good-bye br Or lip me the softest call, br Or utter a wish for a word, while I br Saw morning harden upon the wall, br Unmoved, unknowing br That your great going br Had place that moment, and altered all. br br Why do you make me leave the house br And think for a breath it is you I see br At the end of the alley of bending boughs br Where so often at dusk you used to be; br Till in darkening dankness br The yawning blankness br Of the perspective sickens me! br br You were she who abode br By those red-veined rocks far West, br You were the swan-necked one who rode br Along the beetling Beeny Crest, br And, reining nigh me, br Would muse and eye me, br While Life unrolled us its very best. br br Why, then, latterly did we not speak, br Did we not think of those days long dead, br And ere your vanishing strive to seek br That time's renewal? We might have said, br "In this bright spring weather br We'll visit together br Those places that once we visited." br br Well, well! All's past amend, br Unchangeable. It must go. br I seem but a dead man held on end br To sink down soon. . . .