What name will it find in a few more seasons,
When we both dissolve in an equal dust?
If a God there be, and a God seems needed
To make the beauty of things like thee,
He doubtless also, some careless moment,
Mixed the forces that fashioned me.
Also He, for His own good reason—
Though I care little how these things are—
Gave me thee, in those few brief midnights,
And that one solace He never can mar.