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.