The Company Of Lovers

We meet and part now over all the world;

we, the lost company,

take hands together in the night, forget

the night in our brief happiness, silently.

We, who sought many things, throw all away

for this one thing, one only,

remembering that in the narrow grave

we shall be lonely.

Death marshalls up his armies round us now.

Their footsteps crowd too near.

Lock your warm hand above the chilling heart

and for a time I live without my fear.

Grope in the night to find me and embrace,

for the dark preludes of the drums begin,

and round us round the company of lovers,

death draws his cordons in.