How shall those who wish her well,
Lift the shadow erst that fell
Round her from Love’s darken’d spell?

Would they have her feast with Song?
Ah! its voices but prolong
Like far echoes Memory’s wrong.

Would they to beguile her leisure
Sweet reliefs in music measure?
Music dreams of foregone pleasure.

Would they lure her where the spring
Gives the unshadow’d heart to wing
Upward like a bird and sing?

Still paler, paler, day by day,
Waxeth gentle Eva Gray,—
Wasting like a cloud away.