As to some lovely temple, tenantless br Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass, br Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass br Grown up between the stones, yet from excess br Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness, br The worshiper returns, and those who pass br Marvel him crying on a name that was,— br So is it now with me in my distress. br Your body was a temple to Delight; br Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled, br Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move; br Here might I hope to find you day or night, br And here I come to look for you, my love, br Even now, foolishly, knowing you are dead.br br Edna St.