Lips that are met in love's
Devotion sweet,
While parting lovers passionately greet,
And earth through heaven's arc more swiftly moves —
Oh, will they be less dear
Within a year?
Eyes in whose shadow-spell
Far off I read
That which to lovers taking loving heed
Dear women's eyes full soon and plainly tell —
Oh, will you give such cheer
This time a year?
Behold! the dark year goes,
Nor will reveal
Aught of its purpose, if for woe or weal,
Swift as a stream that o'er the mill-weir flows:
Mayhap the end draws near
Within the year!
Yet, darling, once more touch
Those lips to mine.
Set on my life that talisman divine;
Absence, new friends, I fear not overmuch ——
Even Death, should he appear
Within the year!