So flows my love along your life, O friend— A whispered song, with neither break nor end, Outbreathed wherever your dear footsteps tend. Albeit you listen not, are not aware Of any music throbbing on the air, Still my full heart goes singing to you there. Content, although the way be long to run And closed for ever from the moon and sun, With emerald dusks and opal dawns all one— Content, content, if Heaven but grant this meed, That you may drink in any hour of need. |