| 'Your eyes that once were never weary of mine|
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning.'
|And then she:|
| 'Although our love is waning, let us stand|
By the long border of the lake once more,
Together in that hour of gentleness
When the poor tired child, Passion, falls asleep:
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!'
Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves
|'Ah, do not mourn,' he said,|
| 'That we are tired, for other loves await us;|
Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
Before us lies eternity; our souls
Are love, and a continual farewell.'
Saturday, October 25, 2008