Some may have blamed you that you took away

    The verses that could move them on the day

    When， the ears being deafened， the sight of the eyes blind

    With lightning， you went from me， and I could find

    Nothing to make a song about but kings，

    Helmets， and swords， and half-forgotten things

    That were like memories of you—but now

    We‘ll out， for the world lives as long ago；

    And while we‘re in our laughing， weeping fit，

    Hurl helmets， crowns， and swords into the pit.

    But， dear， cling close to me； since you were gone，

    My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.