Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/186

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They told their sister how, with sudden speed,
 * Lorenzo had ta'en ship for foreign lands,

Because of some great urgency and need
 * In their affairs, requiring trusty hands.

Poor girl! put on thy stifling widow's weed,
 * And 'scape at once from Hope's accursed bands;

To-day thou wilt not see him, nor to-morrow, And the next day will be a day of sorrow.

She weeps alone for pleasures not to be;
 * Sorely she wept until the night came on,

And then, instead of love, O misery!
 * She brooded o'er the luxury alone:

His image in the dusk she seem'd to see,
 * And to the silence made a gentle moan,

Spreading her perfect arms upon the air, And on her couch low murmuring, "Where? O where?"

But Selfishness, Love's cousin, held not long
 * Its fiery vigil in her single breast;

She fretted for the golden hour, and hung
 * Upon the time with feverish unrest—

Not long; for soon into her heart a throng
 * Of higher occupants, a richer zest,

Came tragic; passion not to be subdued, And sorrow for her love in travels rude.

In the mid days of autumn, on their eves
 * The breath of Winter comes from far away,