The Last Tenant

GONE are the tenants of that lonely hall.
Blithe Youth and lovely Hope, of yesterday,
And careless Joy went caroling away:
And Silence hung its banner on the wall.
From lagging morn till eve the slow hours crawl,
And sink, reluctant, to the tomb of Night.
The stars diffuse a faint, uncertain light,
And the moon flames out — Night’s mournful seneschal!
Deserted, dim, are all the casements lone;
Unheeded springs the rank and spreading grass ;
There comes no sound without of sigh or groan ;
There goes no sound within of feet that pass . . .
Yet, in a chamber lone, where ivies cling,
Sits one within, named Love, remembering!