When all my loves had forsaken me."
Aye love, brief love, sweet love," sighed he,
Thou art more than life—far more, far more."
So through that night, by the fast-locked door,
They spake of lové till they drooped to sleep,
Nor heard at dawn the wary creep
Of one who traced the outer-wall,
And found the marks of their foot-fall.
When mists were lifting off the sky
They sprang from dreams at a sudden cry,