The gentle harmonies of love declined,
And swooned into a dull, funereal moan,
And faintly floated onward with the wind.
The symphony was gone; I stayed alone
In all-enshrouding, opiate sadness bound.
I did not scream; I did not weep nor groan.
My soul was locked in stupor whence it found
Only barred gates across dim vaults; and jangling,
Discordant chaos stung me like a wound.
I could not think; I could not hope; the wrangling
Of jarring sounds oppressed me till my brain
Was lost within a labyrinth, all-entangling--
But this I learned although my powers did wane;
That Love through Death transmutes itself to pain.