APART

While sunset burns and stars are few, And roses scent the fading light, And like a slim urn, dripping dew, A spirit carries through the night,

The pearl-pale moon hangs new,— I think of you, of you. While waters flow, and soft winds woo The golden-hearted bud with sighs;

And, like a flower an angel threw, Out of the momentary skies A star falls burning blue,— I dream of you, of you.

While love believes, and hearts are true, So let me think, so let me dream; The thought and dream so wedded to Your face, that, far apart, I seem

To see each thing you do, And be with you, with you.