And she was there. The little boat

Coasting the perilous isles of sleep,

Zones of oblivion and despair,

Stopped, for Eurydice was there.

The foundering skiff could scarcely keep

All that felicity afloat.

As if we had left earth’s frontier wood

Long since and from this sea had won

The lost original of the soul,

The moment gave us pure and whole

Each back to each, and swept us on

Past every choice to boundless good.

Forgiveness, truth, atonement, all

Our love at once—till we could dare

At last to turn our heads and see

The poor ghost of Eurydice

Still sitting in her silver chair,

Alone in Hades’ empty hall.