After all— mine is the joy Which naught can lessen or destroy. For love has led my flying feet Where immortelles are springing sweet, And everlasting skies of gold Are memories, when earth is cold And though our future paths should lie Estranged, as star-ways, through the sky, I shall not look reproof, nor find Within this pass a charge unkind, And lightly sorrow shall be met For I can never know regret. |