University of Virginia Library


269

XIII. THE LAST GIFT.

The shadows deepen round me; take
I will not say my last adieu,
But, this faint verse; and for my sake
Keep the last line I trace for you.
The years that lightly touch your head,
Nor steal away nor change one hair,
Press upon mine with heavy tread
And leave but barren laurels there.
Another year I may not see,
I may not all I hope in this,
Receive then on your brow from me
And give Rosina's lips the kiss.