Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.
I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain
To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,
To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow.
Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour
When all our love breaks into perfect flower
Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.
Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb
Beyond the valley, and may chance to see
Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.