Save when, your foot-fall hearing,
My heart awakes to the old-loved sound
And beats to the step that’s nearing.
Bright shone the moon, last eve, when you came—
Still, dust for dust hath feeling—
The willow-roots whispered low the name
Of him who weeps while kneeling.
The lily-cup holds the falling tears,
The tears you shed above me;
And I know through all these silent years