Sweet are the wind's soft kisses on the brow;
Sweet is the singing of the mated bird;
Sweet is the scent of blossom on the bough;
Sweet is a woman's singing voice when heard !

Happy recall of things remembered-
Life's happy hours, love's blooded ecstasy.
Youth's sanguine dreams whose tireless wings outsped
The light- now silhouettes of Memory!

E'en like a dawn whose flush outlives the day;
E'en like a star that lives beyond the night;
As maid's remembrance of her bridal-day;
Or as his cult to mystic acolyte-
So is the memory of these things to me
Here on the verge of death, eternity.