Roses and their sultry musk;
Whippoorwills deep in the dusk
Yonder sob and sigh.—
You are here; and I could weep,
Weep for joy and suffering....
"Where is he"?—He'd have me sing—
There he sits, asleep.
Think not of him! he is dead
For the moment to us twain—
Hold me in your arms again,