This after-sunset is a sight for seeing,

Cliff-heads of craggy cloud surrounding it.

   —And dwell you in that glory-show?

You may; for there are strange strange things in being,

      Stranger than I know.

Yet if that chasm of splendour claim your presence

Which glows between the ash cloud and the dun,

   How changed must be your mortal mould!

Changed to a firmament-riding earthless essence

      From what you were of old:

All too unlike the fond and fragile creature

Then known to me . . . Well, shall I say it plain?

   I would not have you thus and there,

But still would grieve on, missing you, still feature

      You as the one you were.