The Tempted Hermit

O, Face in tears, whose griefs to beauty grew— Before whose beauty swift winds gasp and cease, Ah, pity me who wore a thin path to

Your lone house, grassed in peace.

Have you not held me here by secret strings, By strings more delicate than shining tears? Then look on me, the weakest of weak things, And ease my unknown fears;

For someone calls me while the blue sky hurls Against this window-pane, where look! she peers; Her eyelids hold the dews of other worlds—

Lost sweetness woos my ears!

Ah, Lady, save me, save me from her looks;

And through your candlelight, O soothe my mind, Before it breaks and scatters with the rooks, Along dawn’s empty wind.