“The tremor of a banished fear,

An ill that was not done⁠—

O me, O me, what frugal cheer

My love doth feed upon!”

“O me, O me, what frugal cheer My love doth feed upon! A touch, a ray, that is not here, A shadow that is gone:

“A dream of breath that might be near, An inly-echoed tone, The thought that one may think me dear, The place where one was known,