Years come and go; generations
Are perishing day by day,
But the love that my heart aches with,
It never will pass away.
If once, but once, I might see thee,
And sink on my knees at thy feet,
And, dying there, dying might tell thee,
"I love thee, I love thee, sweet!"
.mw-parser-output .wst-floatright{float:right;text-indent:0}Blackwood's Magazine.