by Luis G. Dato
I cannot deem it that the word has been
Uttered between us that our way must part,
And that the sun declining to its green
Shore in the west divides us in the heart.
We were together when the morning rose,
Such strange sweet things together had we dreamed,
Tell me that all I find has only seemed,
That ’tis with dew, not tears the flower glows.
Swift as life is, for it the rose is blown,
And losing love, life dies before its dawn,
Dream as life is ’tis love that gives its truth;
So, O my love, when in our heart is youth,
‘Tis you in all my life alone that may
Breath-like a soul through my inanimate clay.
