I plucked thee in life's morning, ribboned rose, While yet the dew lent sweetness to thy grace, And pressed thee close 'twixt heart and bosomed lace With all the glowing passion love bestows On Cupid's bloom. Now from thy cloister flows Brimmed stream of memory. In Love's embrace I linger where the arbor's wine-trails trace -- With new-born moon -- dreams vowing lips disclose. Full many years have fled since golden eve -- Nor turns time backward in its mystic flight; My soul has grieved as only one can grieve Who knows the utter starkness of the night, But when thy withered bloom -- transformed -- I see, Then shall my own keep endless tryst with me. |