The Last Betrothed

In places that have known my lady's grace,
Seeing how all my soul and life lay there,
I sat; when lo, so sitting, I was 'ware
Of breath that fell in sighs upon my face.
While like a harp wherethrough the night-wind plays
A sorrowful, delicious, nameless air,
A voice wherein I felt my soul had share
Made music in the consecrated place.

Then, lifting up my eyes, I looked, and lo!
A fair sad woman sitting all alone
Where Love brief while ago had made his throne:
Against her pale still breast I leant my brow,
"Thy name," I said, "is Grief; take then my vow
That I and thou henceforward be as one."