Wild honey from various thyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Past was with us and no morning rose
But we remembered something that had been,
Or thought with trembling of the summer's close,
Or clung too fast to April's tender green.
Ah, what we missed through those dull years of wrong,
Of tears, of praise, of precious laughter, how
The voice enchanting in caress and song
I heard as Orpheus' prisoned wife! But now,
O Loved, are we not happy? Nothing stems
The current of our freedom: all the day
We of ourselves sweet memories can make;
Nor other boon we crave than thus to stay
Watching the mists together at sunbreak,
Or gathering yellow balsams by the Thames.