And yet I know that I shall die, and ere
The young fair flowers, which thou and I have sown,
Have faded on their stems, be all at rest!
There is strange music in the air, and tones
Upon the twilight breeze, and voices heard
In midnight dreams, for those who early die;
And I have heard them all, and my doomed heart
With life hath striven until the victory
Is won. I would that we had earlier met,
Dear friend, that all the sunshine of my first