No eve of summer ever can attain
The gladness of that eve of late _July_,
When 'mid the roses, filled with musk and rain,
Against the wondrous topaz of the sky,
I met you, leaning on the pasture bars,--
While heaven and earth grew conscious of the stars.
No night of blackest winter can repeat
The bitterness of that _December_ night,
When at your gate, gray-glittering with sleet,
Within the glimmering square of window-light,
We parted,--long you clung unto my arm,--
While heaven and earth surrendered to the storm.
