Dead Joys

The joy in sunset, and the large delight
Of rains abundant, falling after heat;
The passionate joy it was to break and beat
With strenuous limbs the blown waves warm and white;
The vital peace that fills the summer's night;
The pensive joy, just touched with dreamy pain,
Of autumn twilights when dim woods complain
And the past summer haunts the inward sight;

The joy of travel and acquaintanceship
With lordly towns and many a sung-of place
Whose names are in man's ear and on his lip, —
All these for me are over now and done.
Since that essential life which lit the sun
Death has eclipsed, darkening my lady's face.