De Profundis

I

The face, which, duly as the sun,

Rose up for me with life begun,

To mark all bright hours of the day

With hourly love, is dimmed away—

And yet my days go on, go on.

II

The tongue which, like a stream, could run

Smooth music from the roughest stone,

And every morning with Good day

Make each day good, is hushed away,

And yet my days go on, go on.

III

The heart which, like a staff, was one

For mine to lean and rest upon,

The strongest on the longest day

With steadfast love, is caught away,

And yet my days go on, go on.

IV

And cold before my summers done,

And deaf in Natures general tune,

And fallen too low for special fear,

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