Carve not upon a stone when I am dead, The praises which remorseful mourners give; To women's graves - a tardy recompense, But speak them while I live.
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,-
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight, Make me a child again just for to-night!
Unremembered and afar
I watched as I watched a star,
Through darkness struggling into view
And I loved you better than you knew.
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!I am so weary of toil and of tears,-Toil without recompense, tears all in vain!Take them, and give me my childhood again!
We do not die with those we mourn.
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