I found Him in the shining of the stars.

As the husband is the wife is; thou art mated with a clown, As the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.

Forgive my grief for one removed Thy creature whom I found so fair I trust he lives in Thee and there I find him worthier to be loved.

Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.

For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.