And we would often at the fall of dusk
Wander together by the silver stream,
When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew
And purple misted in the fading light,
And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,
And the superb magnificence of love—
The loneliness that saddens solitude,
And the sweet speech that makes it durable,
The bitter longing and the keen desire,
The sweet companionship through quiet days