Lohengrin

Strain, strain thine eyes, this parting is for aye! Grief have her will of thee! Thy faith confessed To his unequal, he must go, the quest Fulfilled that brought him hither on thy day Of imminent, direst peril. Now away To other shores bids him the Grail’s behest. Thou knewest him too late to spare thy breast This keen remorse, thy soul this dark dismay. Yet canst thou face not all disconsolate The coming years. The horn remains, the sword, The ring he left thee, and the child whom late Thou mournedst; while beyond the power of fate To dim the memory of that love outpoured Upon thee by thy stainless knight and lord.