who are ye, spirits, that stand
      In the outer gloom,
Each with a blazing heart in hand,
Which lighteth the dark beyond the tomb?

    “Oh, we be souls that loved
      Too well, too well!
Yet, for that love, though sore reproved,...

I
my foe was dark, and stern, and grim,
I lived my life in fear of him.
I passed no secret, darkened nook
Without a shuddering, furtive look,
Lest he should take me unawares
In some one of his subtle snares.
Even in broad noon the thought of...