  O, unforgotten lips, grey haunting eyes, Soft curving cheeks and heart-remembered brow, It is all true, the old love never dies; And, parted, we must meet for ever now. We did not think it true! We did not think Love meant this universal cry of pain, This crown of thorn, this vinegar to drink, This lonely crucifixion o'er again. Yet through the darkness of the sleepless night Your tortured face comes meekly answering mine; Dumb, but I know why those mute lips are white; Dark, but I know why those dark lashes shine. O, love, love, love, what death can set us free From this implacable ghost of memory? |
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