Thomas Hardy - Evelyn G. Of Christminster lyrics

I can see the towers In mind quite clear Not many hours' Faring from here; But how up and go, And briskly bear Thither, and know That are not there? Though the birds sing small, And apple and pear On your trees by the wall Are ripe and rare, Though none excel them, I have no care To taste them or smell them And you not there. Though the College stones Are smit with the sun, And the graduates and Dons Who held you as one Of brightest brow Still think as they did, Why haunt with them now Your candle is hid? Towards the river A pealing swells: They cost me a quiver - Those prayerful bells! How go to God, Who can reprove With so heavy a rod As your swift remove! The chorded keys Wait all in a row, And the bellows wheeze As long ago. And the psalter lingers, And organist's chair; But where are your fingers That once wagged there? Shall I then seek That desert place This or next week, And those tracks trace That fill me with cark And cloy; nowhere Being movement or mark Of you now there!