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.