Canto XLV

The path we came by, thorn and flower,

      Is shadow'd by the growing hour,

Lest life should fail in looking back.

So be it: there no shade can last

      In that deep dawn behind the tomb,

      But clear from marge to marge shall bloom

The eternal landscape of the past;

A lifelong tract of time reveal'd;

      The fruitful hours of still increase;

      Days order'd in a wealthy peace,

And those five years its richest field.

O Love! thy province were not large,

      A bounded field, nor stretching far,

      Look also, Love, a brooding star,

A rosy warmth from marge to marge.