When all the splendour wanes
Like a slow sunset from the changeful leaves,
And the grey time of rains
With hooded dawns and eves
Approaches, I shall come to you once more,
Some afternoon of sun and sunlit cloud
And knocking at your door
Await your soft and murmurous tread, scarce heard
For sudden pulses loud
By long desire and many memories stirred. . .
So you will come, and we shall meet again,
After the going-down of many days,
The death of many dreams;
Under the gracious heavens of your gaze
My heart shall lie as some autumnal land
Fulfilled with aureate light and azure haze,
The while we speak of themes
Familiar, or recall forgotten things—
Telling of autumn and the fallen flow'rs,
And the fled wings—
Lest love usurp our straitly guarded lips,
And the irrevocable word be said
That ends the wordless hours . . .
Unheard, like petals shed
In fields of poppy-bloom,
The moments fall and turn to memories
Though Love foresees
Here, in the sunlit room,
The ultimate night and silence of his doom.
But not too heavily the burden weighs,
While your sweet gaze
Lingers upon me like a tranquil light,
And all the murmured music of your voice
Becomes an echo for the songless days.
And heart and soul rejoice,
Knowing your presence for a little while,
But dare not tell
how love has made this hour ineffable,
And dare not tell the dearness of your smile.