"O me, O me, what frugal cheer

            My love doth feed upon!

          A touch, a ray, that is not here,

            A shadow that is gone:

         A dream of breath that might be near,

            An inly-echoed tone,

          The thought that one may think me dear,

            The place where one was known,

        

 The tremor of a banished fear,

            An ill that was not done--

          O me, O me, what frugal cheer

            My love doth feed upon!"

George Elliot