  I AM not brave enough to sing The requiem of a hope just dead, That word good-bye will surely bring The shadow upon swifter wing, Come, let us say good-night instead. See, where upon the water’s crest The sky comes down, a samite pall, To our poor vision, dim at best— That curtain of rare amethyst Marks the sure ending of it all. Ah, heart, the lesson you forget, This wind which goes with hurrying sweep Sees farther on, and farther yet The white ships go, the waters fret, The tender stars their vigils keep. So not good-bye, good-night—that’s all, The loneliness, the loss is mine, To-morrow when the glad winds call, The folds of mist will backward fall, And leave me with my hand in thine. |
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