  SOMETIME, I fear, but God alone knows when, Mine eyes shall gaze on your unseeing eyes, On your unheeding ears shall fall my cries, Your clasp shall cease, your soul go from my ken, Your great heart be a fire burned out.—Ah, then, What shall remain for me beneath the skies Of glad, or good, or beautiful, or wise, That can relume and thrill my life again? This shall remain, a love that cannot fail, A life that joys in your great joy, yet grieves In memory of sweet days fled too soon. Sadness divine! as when November pale Sits broken-hearted ’mong her withered leaves, And feels the wind about her warm as June. |
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