Sleepland Forsaken

O Love! O sweet! where art thou gone, my love?
I tread the songless ways of sleep alone;
In sleepland's shadowy caves I make my moan.
O sleep's pale, waveless, voiceless seas whereof
She seemed a part — where is the syren gone?
O whispering forests, tell me of the dove!
O paths with lilies and with roses sown,
Where is my flower, the fairest of the grove?

O sweet, unanswering voice and feet so flown,
In vain along the silent shore I rove
Where shadows of the moon-lit rocks lie prone,
By tideless seas that never winds may move!
Alas, my God, their depths are deep enough
To hide that face, and they shall keep their own.