Good-night, good-night, my Love.
THROUGH REVERENT EYES.
To-night I saw her. Strange indeed
My faint heart should thus fail me;—strange
That after such transporting love
In me three days should work such change.
Not more than three?—Nay, barely three;
And yet, within that raptured time
I’ve lived, it seems, a century
Of hope in Love’s own blissful clime.