APART

While sunset burns and stars are few,

And roses scent the fading light,

And like a slim urn, dripping dew,

A spirit carries through the night,

The pearl-pale moon hangs new,—

I think of you, of you.

While waters flow, and soft winds woo

The golden-hearted bud with sighs;

And, like a flower an angel threw,

Out of the momentary skies

A star falls burning blue,—

I dream of you, of you.

While love believes, and hearts are true,

So let me think, so let me dream;

The thought and dream so wedded to

Your face, that, far apart, I seem

To see each thing you do,

And be with you, with you.