Thy love, from me, hath long departed,
Prime and puerile, though it seemeth now.
When I was young and callow-hearted,
And my foolish flame was oft avowed.
It was that first awaking ardour,
When my mind was full of simple dreams.
And to thy love, I fell, a martyr,
Seeking beauty ‘neath a shallow gleam.
It was thee, who grew me to a man,
From a childhood, yearning at thy name.
When I stood, with callow-heart in hand,
Now, wherein, thou ever shall remain.
Years have passed without thine hand in mine,
Still, my dreams and thee remain entwined.