Sonnet Composed In The Name Of A Father, Whose Daughter Had Recently Died Shortly After Her Marriage; And Addressed To The Father Of Her Who Had Lately Taken The Veil. Of Two Fair Virgins, Modest, Though Admired, Heaven Made Us Happy; And Now, Wretched Sires, Heaven For A Nobler Doom Their Worth Desires, And Gazing Upon Either, Both Required. Mine, While The Torch Of Hymen Newly Fired Becomes Extinguished, - Soon - Too Soon Expires; But Thine, Within The Closing Grate Retired, Eternal Captive, To Her God Aspires. But Thou At Least From Out The Jealous Door, Which Shuts Between Your Never-Meeting Eyes, May'St Hear Her Sweet And Pious Voice Once More: I To The Marble, Where My Daughter Lies, Rush, - The Swoln Flood Of Bitterness I Pour, And Knock, And Knock, And Knock - But None Replies. [First Published, Childe Harold, Canto Iv., 1818.]