And hold, from head to feet!

Could I so hold you ever--could
Your eye still catch the glow
Of mine--it were an endless good:
Together we should grow

One perfect picture of our love!...
Alas, the embers old
Fell, and the moonlight fell, above--
Dim, shattered, vapor-cold.


IV

_What ill befell these lovers? Shall I say?
What tragedy of petty care and sorrow?
Ye all know, who have lived and loved: if nay,
Then those will know who live and love tomorrow.
But here at least is what this opal said,
The fifth in number: and the next two bore
My fancy toward that dim world of the dead,
Where waiting spirits muse the past life o'er_:


FIFTH OPAL

I dreamed my kisses on your hair
Turned into roses. Circling bloom
Crowned the loose-lifted tresses there.