THE very stars will rise and swing
More radiant censers in the air,
No shadow fall on anything,
The red rose paint itself more fair,
So brief the hours, divine their sum,
When Love is come, when Love is come.
Beauty will fail from earth and sky,
Fragrance and song will lose their dower,
The world in dark eclipse will lie,
And all things wither in that hour,
When still the heart beats on and on,
And Love is gone, and Love is gone.
Mary N. Prescott.