I + 

I thought once how Theocritus had sung + 

Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, + 

Who each one in a gracious hand appears + 

To bear a gift for mortals, old or young; + 

And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, + 

I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, + 

The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, + 

Those of my own life, who by turns had flung + 

A shadow across me. Straightway I was ’ware, + 

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move + 

Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; + 

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove: + 

“Guess now who holds thee!”⁠—“Death!” I said. But there, + 

The silver answer rang: “Not Death, but Love.” + 