Is it the hour? We leave this resting-place br Made fair by one another for a while. br Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace; br The long road then, unlit by your faint smile. br Ah! the long road! and you so far away! br Oh, I'll remember! but . . . each crawling day br Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile br Dull the dear pain of your remembered face. br br . . .