When I contemplate all alone,
⁠The life that had been thine below,
⁠And fix my thoughts on all the glow
To which thy crescent would have grown;

I see thee sitting crown'd with good,
⁠A central warmth diffusing bliss
⁠In glance and smile, and clasp and kiss,
On all the branches of thy blood;

Thy blood, my friend, and partly mine;
⁠For now the day was drawing on,
⁠When thou should'st link thy life with one
Of mine own house, and boys of thine

Had babbled 'Uncle' on my knee;
⁠But that remorseless iron hour
⁠Made cypress of her orange flower,
Despair of Hope, and earth of thee.