GONE! GONE! AYEA, THOU ART GONE!
Gone! Gone! Ayea, thou art gone!
Gone, and earth doth stand it stark.
Gone! Gone! The even's breath
Doth breathe it unto me
In echo soft; yea, but sharped,
And cutting o' this heart.
Gone! Gone! Aye, thou art gone!
The day is darked, and sun
Hath sorried sore and wrapped him in the dark.
Gone! Gone! This heart doth drip o' drops
With sorry singing o' this song.
Gone! Gone! Yea, thou art gone!
And where, beloved, where?
Doth yonder golden shaft o' light
That pierceth o' the cloud
Then speak unto this heart?
Art thou athin the day's dark hours?
Hast thou then hid from sight o' me,
And yet do know mine hour?
