Thy lip to mine, while, as of old,
We hear with love’s sweet tenderness
That glorious vesper music rolled.
We are together in those bowers
Glad as the rosy-footed hours
And all as pure.—I see her now
A creature less of earth than skies,
With day’s pure sunshine on her brow
And heaven’s own midnight in her eyes.
And thus we trod the path of life,