Jean Ingelow,
Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes…
“ From many a morn till eventide. "My life, immortal though it be, Is nought," she cries, "for want of thee, Persephone—Persephone!"Meadows of Enna, let the rain No longer drop to feed your rills, Nor dew refresh the fields again, With all their nodding daffodils! Fade, fade and droop, O lilied lea, Where thou, dear heart, wert reft from me— Persephone—Persephone!"She reigns upon her dusky throne, Mid shades of heroes dread to see; Among the dead she breathes alone, Persephone—Persephone! ”
