True love is never ended; it walks ever beside me in your form…
You walked with me as the spirit-light
Of the hushed moon, high over a snowy hill,
Walks with the houseless traveller all the night,
When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill.
Moon of my soul, O phantom of delight,
You walk with me still.
The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns
In my soul’s sanctuary. Yes, still for thee,
My bitter heart has yearned, as moonward yearns
Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea:
My moon of love, to whom for ever turns
That life that aches through me.