Ah me, how sadder than to say farewell

AH me, how sadder than to say farewell 
It is to meet 
Dreading that Love hath lost his spell 

And changed his sweet ! 
I would we were again to part, 
With that full heart. 

The hawthorn was half-bud, half-flower, 

At our goodbye ; 
And braver to me since that hour 

Are earth and sky : 
My God, it were too poor a thing 

To meet this spring. 

Our hearts — life never would have marge 

To bear their tides, 
Their confluent rush! Lo, death is large 

In boundary-sides ; 
And our great [insert Greek] must be said 

When I am dead.