XXXIV. Superfluous were the sun

SUPERFLUOUS were the sun
        When excellence is dead;
He were superfluous every day,
        For every day is said

That syllable whose faith
        Just saves it from despair,
And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates
        If love inquire, 'Where?'

Upon his dateless fame
        Our periods may lie,
As stars that drop anonymous
        From an abundant sky.