Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/210

 EARKEN, O dear, now strikes the hour we die; We, who in our strange kiss Have proved a dream the world's realities, Turned each from other's darkness with a sigh, Need heed no more of life, waste no more breath On any other journey, but of death.

And yet: Oh, know we well How each of us must prove Love's infidel; Still out of ecstasy turn trembling back To earth's same empty track Of leaden day by day, and hour by hour, and be Of all things lovely the cold mortuary.