When in each other’s arms, love-wearied, we
Both nested safe in silken cushions warm
At Winter-evenfall entrancèd lie,
Kissing but closer as we list the storm,
Then pray we, midst our sweet antiphony
But this—that love like ours may never die!...
“Combien J’ai Douce Souvenance...!”
(After Chateaubriand)