To Have Known Him, To Have Loved Him After Loneness Long; And Then To Be Estranged In Life, And Neither In The Wrong; And Now For Death To Set His Seal-- Ease Me, A Little Ease, My Song! By Wintry Hills His Hermit-Mound The Sheeted Snow-Drifts Drape, And Houseless There The Snow-Bird Flits Beneath The Fir-Trees' Crape: Glazed Now With Ice The Cloistral Vine That Hid The Shyest Grape.