Have we not communed here of life and death?
Have we not said that love, such love as ours,
Was not to perish as a rose’s breath,
To melt away, like song from festal bowers?
Answer, oh! answer me!
Thine eye’s last light was mine—the soul that shone
Intensely, mournfully, through gathering haze—
Didst thou bear with thee to the shore unknown,
Naught of what lived in that long, earnest gaze?
Hear, hear and answer me!