I Dwelt In The Shade Of A City, She Far By The Sea, With Folk Perhaps Good, Gracious, Witty; But Never With Me. Her Form On The Ballroom'S Smooth Flooring I Never Once Met, To Guide Her With Accents Adoring Through Weippert'S "First Set." {1} I Spent My Life'S Seasons With Pale Ones In Vanity Fair, And She Enjoyed Hers Among Hale Ones In Salt-Smelling Air. Maybe She Had Eyes Of Deep Colour, Maybe They Were Blue, Maybe As She Aged They Got Duller; That Never I Knew. She May Have Had Lips Like The Coral, But I Never Kissed Them, Saw Pouting, Nor Curling In Quarrel, Nor Sought For, Nor Missed Them. Not A Word Passed Of Love All Our Lifetime, Between Us, Nor Thrill; We'd Never A Husband-And-Wife Time, For Good Or For Ill. Yet As One Dust, Through Bleak Days And Vernal, Lie I And Lies She, This Never-Known Lady, Eternal Companion To Me!