No eve of summer ever can attain
The gladness of that eve of late July,
When 'mid the roses, filled with musk and rain,
Against the wondrous topaz of the sky,
I met you, leaning on the pasture bars, -
While heaven and earth grew conscious of the stars.
No night of blackest winter can repeat
The bitterness of that December night,
When at your gate, gray-glittering with sleet,
Within the glimmering square of window-light,
We parted, - long you clung unto my arm, -
While heaven and earth surrendered to the storm.