We leave the well-beloved place
⁠Where first we gazed upon the sky;
⁠The roofs, that heard our earliest cry,
Will shelter one of stranger race.

We go, but ere we go from home,
⁠As down the garden-walks I move,
⁠Two spirits of a diverse love
Contend for loving masterdom.

One whispers, here thy boyhood sung
⁠Long since its matin song, and heard
⁠The low love-language of the bird
In native hazels tassel-hung.

The other answers, 'Yea, but here
⁠Thy feet have stray'd in after hours
⁠With thy lost friend among the bowers,
And this hath made them trebly dear.'