He enters. Taking her in his arms he speaks.

They said you were dying— You shall not die!... Why are you crying? Why do you sigh?— Cease that sad sighing!— Love, it is I.

All is forgiven!— Love is not poor; Though he was driven Once from your door, Back he has striven, To part nevermore!

Will you remember What I forget?— Words, each an ember, That you regret? Now in November, Now we have met?

What if love wept once! What though you knew! What if he crept once Pleading to you!— He never slept once, Nor was untrue.

Often forgetful, Love may forget; Froward and fretful, Dear, he will fret; Ever regretful, He will regret.

Life is completer Through his control; Living made sweeter Even through dole, Hearing Love's metre Sing in the soul.

Flesh may not hear it, Being impure; And mind may fear it, May not endure; But in the spirit— There we are sure.

So when to-morrow Ceases, and we Quit this we borrow, Mortality, Love chastens sorrow So it can see....

Still you are weeping! Why do you weep?— Are tears in keeping With joy so deep? Gladness so sweeping?— Are you asleep?

Speak to me, dearest! Say it is true!— That I am nearest, Dearest to you.— Smile with those clearest Eyes of grey blue.