At moonset when ghost speaks with ghost,
And spirits meet where once they sinned,
Between the bournes of found and lost,
My soul met her soul on the wind,
My late-lost Evalind.
I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild.
Two burning shadows were her eyes,
Wherefrom the maiden love, that smiled
A heartbreak smile of severed ties,
Gazed with a wan surprise.
Then suddenly I seemed to see
No more her shape where beauty bloomed ...
My own sad self gazed up at me—
My sorrow, that had so assumed
The form of her entombed.