Page:Florence Earle Coates Mine and Thine 1904 017.jpg

 Rh See how the sun, down-sinking to his rest,

Gilds with his glory all the roseate west!

I linger on, in life's chill afterglow.

Nay; smile, beloved!—like your mother—so!

Stay but a moment! Now—my own! my blest!

Ask what you will.