Is fiercely struggling for control. Each hue
Of purple, gold and crimson that flits o’er
The western sky recalls some by-gone joy,
That we have shared together, and my soul
Is love’s and memory’s.
As here I sit
In loneliness, the thought comes o’er my heart
How side by side in moonlight eves, while soft
The rose-winged hours were flitting by, we stood
Beside that clear and gently-murmuring fount