Oh, not the loss of the accomplished thing! 
Not dumb farewells, nor long relinquishment 
Of beauty had, and golden summer spent, 
And savage glory of the fluttering 
Torn banners of the rain, and frosty ring 
Of moon-white winters, and the imminent 
Long-lunging seas, and glowing students bent 
To race on some smooth beach the gull's wing:

Not these, nor all we've been, nor all we've loved, 
The pitiful familiar names, had moved 
Our hearts to weep for them; but oh, the star 
The future is! Eternity's too wan 
To give again that undefeated, far, 
All-possible irradiance of dawn.

Like moon-dark, like brown water you escape, 
O laughing mouth, O sweet uplifted lips. 
Within the peering brain old ghosts take shape; 
You flame and wither as the white foam slips 
Back from the broken wave: sometimes a start, 
A gesture of the hands, a way you own 
Of bending that smooth head above your heart,-- 
Then these are varied, then the dream is gone.

Oh, you are too much mine and flesh of me 
To seal upon the brain, who in the blood 
Are so intense a pulse, so swift a flood 
Of beauty, such unceasing instancy. 
Dear unimagined brow, unvisioned face, 
All beauty has become your dwelling place.