Perhaps they are wishing we were dead, overhead.
So they loved for a Time and the passing of a Time,
And the Angel of Indifference, smiling down, saw their fire,
And he covered for a space
With his sombre wings his face,
That they twain might have of love all desire, without tire.
But love's perfect joy within them burned at last to a flame
Till they longed for a breeze that would gently cool the heart.
For absence! cooling snow
They sighed apart and low,