XXXV + 

“Ah, Porphyro!” said she, “but even now + 

Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, + 

Made tuneable with every sweetest vow; + 

And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: + 

How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear! + 

Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, + 

Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! + 

Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, + 

For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go.” + 