Afternoon

<SPAN name="XIII"></SPAN>XIII<br/> <br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dead kisses of the long dead years</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have left their mark upon your face,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath the sad, harsh winds of age</span><br/> Of many roses now there is no trace.<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see not now your mouth and eyes</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gleam, like the birth of morning fair,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor softly now your head repose</span><br/> Within the dark deep garden of your hair.<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your dear hands that still are sweet</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have somehow suffered from the loss</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of light about their finger-tips</span><br/> That touched my forehead, like the dawn-kissed moss.<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your body that was fair and young</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I did with my thoughts endow,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">No longer now is fresh as dew,</span><br/> Your arm no longer like the white, clean bough.<br/> <br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">All falls, alas, and fades away,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">All changes now: your voice once smooth,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your body, lowered like a shield</span><br/> To spill the precious victories of youth.<br/> <br/> And yet my heart says still with fervent stress:<br/> What matter that the years grow heavier?<br/> Since I know well that nothing can e'er bound<br/> Or trouble our exalted happiness,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that our souls are too profound</span><br/> For love to die for want of loveliness.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />