To set this one soul free. She owes me yet,For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt.To me he still must be—that know I well—As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwellHe must not come, nor see his mother’s face.Alone for ever, in a caverned placeOf silver-veinèd earth, hid from men’s sight,A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light:As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies,Priest of great light and worshipped of the wise.