This is the window where, one day,

I watched him as he came,

When all the world was white with May,

And vibrant with his name.

His eyes to mine, my eyes to his—

Oh lad, how glad were we,

What time I leaned to catch the kiss

Your fingers tossed to me!

This is the window where, one day,

I crouched to see him go,

When all the world with wrath was gray

And desolate with snow.

Oh, this the glass where prophet-wise

My fate I needs must spell;

Through this I looked on Paradise,

Through this I looked on Hell.