But she noticed, with a shudder, that the space usually filled by the
Image was vacant. Then she understood, and with a hopeless sigh went
down the wood again.

Already Antony and Silencieux had found the place where the loneliest
land meets the loneliest sea. Side by side they were sitting on a
moonlit margin of the world, and Antony was singing low to the murmur of
the waves:--

Hopeless of hope, past desire even of thee,
There is one place I long for,
A desolate place
That I sing all my songs for,
A desolate place for a desolate face,
Where the loneliest land meets the loneliest sea.

Green waves and green grasses--and nought else is nigh,
But a shadow that beckons;
A desolate face,
And a shadow that beckons
The desolate face to the desolate place
Where the loneliest sea meets the loneliest sky.

Wide sea and wide heaven, and all else afar,
But a spirit is singing,
A desolate soul
That is joyfully winging--
A desolate soul--to that desolate goal
Where the loneliest wave meets the loneliest star.