That could not tell their too full joy; till—after—
When pierced by parting’s darts.
The hour flew on—ah me! ’twas our last meeting
Ere he would cross the sea;
And when again we two should offer greeting,
I was his bride to be.
So we clung close, each costly moment counting,
Wild with our vain self-pity!—
The hour was o’er—then slowly on thee mounting,
He rode back to the city.