Good Night, III

Good night, my love! Without, the wintry winds Make the night sadly vocal; and within, The hours that danced along so full of joy, Like skeletons have come from out their graves, And sit beside me at my lonely fire,— Guests grim but welcome, which my fancy decks, In all the beauty that was theirs when thou Didst look and breathe and whisper softly on them. So do they come and sit, night after night, Talking to me of thee till I forget That they are mere illusions and the past Is gone forever. They have vanished now, And I am all alone, and thou art—where? My love, good angels bear thee my good night!