Against the time did I prepare my heart,
When blind no more to harsh reality,
The veil must fall from dream and revery,
And mine no more, your ways and mine must part;
I sought God’s shrines, I asked the science, art
Of the kind years to lull all memory
Of you and all the past, but silently
And all unbid rash tears from the eyelids start.
Forgive me, God! Forgive me, dear, kind years!
‘Tis true, perhaps ’twas only a swift smile,
A glance, a song ’twere best soon to forget
Yet I remember, dare the grief, the tears —
Eternity itself for one brief, while —
And meet all, even you, without regret.
