I am not as these are, the poet saith In youth's pride, and the painter, among men At bay, where never pencil comes nor pem - Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Love, which is quickly kindled in the gentle heart, seized this man for the fair form that was taken from me, the manner still hurts me. Love which absolves no beloved one from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as thou seest, it does not leave me yet

Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been;
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.

Nay, come up hither. From this wave-wash'd mound Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me; Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown'd. Miles and miles distant though the last line be, And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond,— Still, leagues beyond those leagues, there is more sea.