He enters. Taking her in his arms he speaks.

They said you were dying —

You shall not die!...

Why are you crying?

Why do you sigh?—

Cease that sad sighing!—

Love, it is I.

All is forgiven!—

Love is not poor;

Though he was driven

Once from your door,

Back he has striven,

To part nevermore!

Will you remember

What I forget?—

Words, each an ember,

That you regret?

Now in November,

Now we have met?

What if love wept once!

What though you knew!

What if he crept once

Pleading to you!—

He never slept once,

Nor was untrue.

Often forgetful,

Love may forget;

Froward and fretful,

Dear, he will fret;

Ever regretful,

He will regret.

Life is completer

Through his control;

Living made sweeter

Even through dole,

Hearing Love's metre

Sing in the soul.

Flesh may not hear it,

Being impure;

And mind may fear it,

May not endure;

But in the spirit —

There we are sure.

So when to-morrow

Ceases, and we

Quit this we borrow,

Mortality,

Love chastens sorrow

So it can see....

Still you are weeping!

Why do you weep?—

Are tears in keeping

With joy so deep?

Gladness so sweeping?—

Are you asleep?

Speak to me, dearest!

Say it is true!—

That I am nearest,

Dearest to you.—

Smile with those clearest

Eyes of grey blue.