I keep for thee the living love of old,
And seek thy place in nature, as a child
Whose hand is parted from its playmate's hold
Wanders and cries along a lonesome wild.
When, in the watches of my heart, I hear
The messages of purer life and know
The footsteps of thy spirit lingering near,
Life's darkness hides the way I fain would go.
Canst thou not bid the empty realms restore
That form, the symbol of thy heavenly part?
Or in the barren fields of silence pour
That voice, the perfect music of thy heart?
Oh, once—once bending to my warm and eager lips,
Take back the tender warmth of life from me,
Or let thy kisses cloud with swift eclipse
The light of mine, and give me death with thee.
