I.
All's over, then—does truth sound bitter
As one at first believes?
Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter
About your cottage eaves.
II.
And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly,
I noticed that to-day;
One day more bursts them open fully
—You know the red turns gray.
III.
To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest?
May I take your hand in mine?
Mere friends are we,—well, friends the merest
Keep much that I'll resign:
IV.
For tho' no glance of the eyes so black
But I keep with heart's endeavour,—
If you only wish the snowdrops back
That shall stay in my soul for ever!—
V.
—Yet I will but say what mere friends say,
Or only a thought stronger;
I will hold your hand but as long as all may,
Or so very little longer!