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When thou art gone, & when are gone all those
That knew thee & that loved thy living grace,
Merged in the formless flood whence all arose,
When thou hast passed, & of thy life no trace
Remaineth, nor remembrancer to say
‘Such was he, such his form, his voice, his face’,
In that new time shall rise, untouched by thee,
The eddying circles still, & pass away;
Full many a spring shall turn to winter dree,
& morn to nightfall, & life’s human day
Shall change from youth’s bright hope to darkling pain,
When thy young life in life’s hard war is slain,
When thou art gone, & I, & our strong love
Which now Time’s change doth but more changeless prove.