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Rh ::::DESERTED ONE know her; none remember her. Cold lies she. Round the place The wind-blown shadows as they stir Fall on no human face. Leagues distant the moon draws the tide As the moon has always done. Whom does she draw to her dead side? Not one of us — not one!

The grasses sway beside the door; The wind shrieks thro' the hedge. No fire-light thrown across the floor Reddens the window-ledge. Gone! All, all gone! save those faint ghosts Her memories, her pain, And on the roof the fluttering hosts Of leaves that fall like rain.

And yet the same sky overhead — The same moon in the sky! Surely some token of the dead Who went so wistfully, Some sign, some token, lingering on   In earth or air or sea, Must cry upon the hearts of stone That can let these things be!