<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"></SPAN></p>
<br/>
<h2> SO, THOU ART GONE </h2>
<p>So, thou art gone; and I am left to wear<br/>
Thy memory as a golden amulet<br/>
Upon my breast, to sing a chansonnette<br/>
Of winter tones, when summer time is here.<br/>
<br/>
And yet, my heart arises from the dark,<br/>
Where it fell back in silence when you went<br/>
To seaward, and a sprite malevolent<br/>
Sat laughing in the white sails of thy barque.<br/>
<br/>
‘Twas not moth-wings dashing against the flame,<br/>
Burning in love’s areanum; ‘twas a cry<br/>
Struck from soul-crossing chords, that, separate, frame<br/>
<br/>
Life’s holy calm, or wasting agony.<br/>
But now between the warring strings there grows<br/>
A space of peace, as ‘tween truce-honoured foes.<br/></p>
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