All others, as morning over moon-skies,
The pink of slumber o’er the pale of death,
It stands alone before my aching eyes—
That evening drive—the hush—the twilight’s deepening blue,
The sunset’s crimson in your blush: “I love you, too.”
Sweets, sweets, sweets, from a heart of sweets!
And sweets to a soul of sad despair—
Oh, love, to-night the Past the Present meets
With love’s own linkéd laughter in the air.
But, oh, you went from out my heart as goes