To --
When passion's trance is overpast,If tenderness and truth could last,Or live, whilst all wild feelings keepSome mortal slumber, dark and deep,I should not weep, I should not weep!
It were enough to feel, to see,Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly,And dream the rest--and burn and beThe secret food of fires unseen,Couldst thou but be as thou hast been,
After the slumber of the yearThe woodland violets reappear;All things revive in field or grove,And sky and sea, but two, which moveAnd form all others, life and love.
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