Two days agone, and love was one with pity
⁠When love gave thought wings toward the glimmering goal
Where, as a shrine lit in some darkling city,
⁠Shone soft the shrouded image of thy soul:
⁠And now thou art healed of life; thou art healed, and whole.

Yea, two days since, all we that loved thee pitied:
⁠And now with wondering love, with shame of face,
We think how foolish now, how far unfitted,
⁠Should be from us, toward thee who hast run thy race,
⁠Pity--toward thee, who hast won the painless place;

The painless world of death, yet unbeholden
⁠Of eyes that dream what light now lightens thine
And will not weep. Thought, yearning toward those olden
⁠Dear hours that sorrow sees and sees not shine,
⁠Bows tearless down before a flameless shrine: