Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/82

54 While the phasm of him who fared starts up, And of her who was waiting him sobs from near, As they haunt there and drink the worm-wood cup They filled for themselves when their sky was clear.

Yes, I see those roads—now rutted and bare, While over the gate is no sun-glazed sea; And though life laughed when I halted there, It is where I never again would be.