To --

When passion's trance is overpast,

If tenderness and truth could last,

Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep

Some 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 be

The secret food of fires unseen,

Couldst thou but be as thou hast been,

After the slumber of the year

The woodland violets reappear;

All things revive in field or grove,

And sky and sea, but two, which move

And form all others, life and love.