I hear a voice, so close it makes me start, That low and tender tells the story old; It still finds answer in my listening heart— That question bold. I see a face, bent fondly till dear eyes Draw other eyes as magnets ... hold with bliss All radiant, till they yielding, authorize Bethrothal kiss. Warm hands seek mine and pressing close, enthral As fervently as then, while pulses chime; These spirit flowers bloom on ... no petals fall In blasts of time. |