In Memoriam

(Extract from)

I dreamed there would be Spring no more,

That Nature’s ancient power was lost :

The streets were black with smoke and frost,

They chattered trifles at the door :

I wandered from the noisy town,

I found a wood with thorny boughs :

I took the thorns to bind my brows,

I wore them like a civic crown :

I met with scoffs, I met with scorns

From youth and babe and hoary hairs :

They called me in the public squares

The fool that wears a crown of thorns :

They called me fool, they called me child :

I found an angel of the night ;

The voice was low, the look was bright ;

He looked upon my crown and smiled :

He reached the glory of a hand,

That seemed to touch it into leaf,

The voice was not the voice of grief,

The words were hard to understand.