GO you by with gentle tread.
This was Paula, who is dead:
Dear grey eyes that had a look
Like some rock-o'ershadowed brook,
Voice upon the ear to cling
Sweeter than the cithern string.
With that spirit shy and fair
Quietly and unaware
Climbing past the starry van
Went, for triple talisman,
They to whom the heavens must ope:
Candour, Chastity, and Hope.