LAST WORDS.
137
In your small dreaming-dresses of white,
With the wild-bloom you gathered to-day
In your quiet shut hands, from the light
And the dark you will wander away.
With the wild-bloom you gathered to-day
In your quiet shut hands, from the light
And the dark you will wander away.
Though no graves in the bee-haunted grass,
And no love in the beautiful sky,
Shall take you as yet, you will pass,—
With this kiss, through these teardrops. Goodbye!
And no love in the beautiful sky,
Shall take you as yet, you will pass,—
With this kiss, through these teardrops. Goodbye!
With less gold and more gloom in their hair,
When the buds near have faded to flowers,
Three faces may wake here as fair—
But older than yours are, by hours!
When the buds near have faded to flowers,
Three faces may wake here as fair—
But older than yours are, by hours!
Good-night, then, lost darlings of mine—
I never shall see you again:
Ah, never in shadow or shine;
Ah, never in dew or in rain!
I never shall see you again:
Ah, never in shadow or shine;
Ah, never in dew or in rain!
