XXII.
 

And we with singing cheer’d the way,
    And, crown’d with all the season lent,
    From April on to April went,
And glad at heart from May to May:

But where the path we walk’d began
    To slant the fifth autumnal slope,
    As we descended following Hope,
There sat the Shadow fear’d of man;

Who broke our fair companionship,
    And spread his mantle dark and cold,
    And wrapt thee formless in the fold,
And dull’d the murmur on thy lip,

And bore thee where I could not see
    Nor follow, tho’ I walk in haste,
    And think, that somewhere in the waste
The Shadow sits and waits for me.