At the Twilight.
I.
As sure as the red years die, dear, as sure as the red years die,
The day and the hour will come, dear, to whisper a last good-bye.
When Love shall unloose the hand-clasp and under the heaping clays
Shall hide in the shadows dark, dear, the dreams of the by-gone days!
II.
Whatever the paths we wander, they lead to the ways that part!
One goes to the realm of shadows, one waits with a lonely heart;
And tears that we weep together shall come at the cry of prayer
And flow in a flood of grieving at pangs of the parting there.
III.
The roses will bloom as red, dear, through all of the laughing land;
The lilies will grow as white, dear, but neither will understand;
For what is the rose and lily to hearts that murmur and moan,
With eyes that were bright all dim, dear, and one of us here alone!
IV.
Ah, one that is left shall murmur and ask of the bud and bloom,
And question the awful silence and mourn at the gates of gloom;
And call through the nights of darkness and sit at the doors of woe,
And never an answer at all, dear, from lips that it used to know!