Demeter Mourning by Frederic Manning — Read

I have seen her in sorrow, as one blind / With grief, across the furrows on soiled feet / Pass, as the cold gray dawn came with cold wind, / Gray as fine steel and keen with bitter sleet, / Beneath the white moon waning in the skies: / And I grew holy gazing in her eyes.

Then her voice came: Ah! but thou wert too fair / To seek among the dim realms of the dead / Love: and what hands will tremble in thine hair / Or lips faint on thy lips? The clear stars shed / All night their dews on me: and the wind's breath / Pierced; and my heart grew hungry too for death.