To thee I oft have boasted, in my pride,
That come what may, Fate never can annul
Our glorious past--so rich, so warm, so full
Of bliss accomplished and of promise wide.
So step by step together, side by side,
Stooping this rose to smell or that to pull,
We two have fared, without a cloud to dull
Our morn, or noon, or this fair evening-tide.
What is to follow? Death? But let me take
These earthly memories from my dying bed,
Pass with these treasures the abyss of dread,
And I defy hell's enmity to shake
The lightest ringlet on this musing head,
Or grieve the soul thus dreaming for thy sake.