Forgive me if I have seemed, but for a moment,
To fail in duty. I am all, all thine;
I have nought but thee to live for. Childish hands
And baby voices lisping for their mother
Are not for me, nor thee; but, all in all,
We joy together, we sorrow together, and last
Shall die, when the hour comes, as something tells me,
Both in the selfsame hour.
Asan.