  EYES of gray—a sodden quay, Driving rain and falling tears, As the steamer wears to sea In a parting storm of cheers. Sing, for Faith and Hope are high— None so true as you and I— Sing the Lovers’ Litany:— “Love like ours can never die!” Eyes of black—a throbbing keel, Milky foam to left and right; Whispered converse near the wheel In the brilliant tropic night. Cross that rules the Southern Sky! Stars that sweep and wheel and fly Hear the Lovers’ Litany:— “Love like ours can never die!” Eyes of brown—a dusty plain Split and parched with heat of June, Flying hoof and tightened rein, Side by side the horses fly, Frame we now the old reply Of the Lovers’ Litany:— “Love like ours can never die!” Eyes of blue—the Simla Hills Silvered with the moonlight hoar; Pleading of the waltz that thrills, Dies and echoes round Benmore. “Mabel,” “Officers,” “Good-by,” Glamour, wine, and witchery— On my soul’s sincerity, “Love like ours can never die!” Maidens, of your charity, Pity my most luckless state. Four times Cupid’s debtor I— Bankrupt in quadruplicate. Yet, despite this evil case, And a maiden showed me grace, Four-and-forty times would I Sing the Lovers’ Litany:— “Love like ours can never die!” Rudyard Kipling. |
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