Echoes of some diviner love
	 Reverberate a quartered heart
	 Confusing fonted loves with lower wants,
Donning longing robes of doves.

There is something then in something gone,
	 A talisman to shake again
	 The index of eternal pain;
A hole in every good thought won.

The grief, the grief is fresh to me
	 As yestereve when enduing mist
	 All the upswayed landscape kissed,
Showing in shining deep tears unseen.

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Poems in pieces

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