Thou only wert my hope, and thou art gone. Thou, the one star in monotones of sky, Art vanished like a meteor, and I, Lost in the night, have ceased to pray for dawn. I watched thee fade, I saw thee pa**ing by And tried to call thee, but my lips were dumb; It had been better hadst thou never come,-- Remembered riches mock my poverty. Blow from afar the little sounds of bells, Wood-smoke hangs thinly on the autumn air, The town's unconscious hush is like a prayer, And night sleeps pleasantly among the dells; I only wander on, and know not where, Through the great dark, pursued by faint farewells.