You must pass on, and you did;
Ah, did I hurt you? you say:
Hurt me? Why, Heaven forbid!

Inquisitorial ways
Might have hurt, truly, but this,
Done in these wise latter days,
It was too sudden, I wis.

"Painless and pleasing," this is
No bad advertisement, true;
Painless extinction was his,
And it was pleasing-to you.

Still, when the surgery's done
(That is the technical term),
Which has lost most, which has won?
Rise now, and truly affirm.

You carry still what we call
(Poets are dreamy we know)
A heart, well, 'tis yours after all,
And time hath its wonders, I trow.

You may look back with your eyes
Turned to the dead of the Past,
And find with a sad surprise,
That yours is the dead at the last.

Seeing afar in the sands,