And rose-crown of the hour that leads the day
When we shall meet once more.
Oh sweet her bending grace
Then when I kneel beside her feet;
And sweet her eyes o’erhanging heaven; and sweet
The gathering folds of her embrace;
And her fall’n hair at last shed round my face
When breaths and tears shall meet ...
Ah! by a colder wave
On deathlier airs the hour must come