Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines br Through yon columnar pines, br And on the deepening shadows of the lawn br Its golden lines are drawn. br br Dreaming of long gone summer days like this, br Feeling the wind's soft kiss, br Grateful and glad that failing ear and sight br Have still their old delight, br br I sit alone, and watch the warm, sweet day br Lapse tenderly away; br And, wistful, with a feeling of forecast, br I ask, 'Is this the last? br br 'Will nevermore for me the seasons run br Their round, and will the sun br Of ardent summers yet to come forget br For me to rise and set?' br br Thou shouldst be here, or I should be with thee br Wherever thou mayst be, br Lips mute, hands clasped, in silences of speech br Each answering unto each. br br For this still hour, this sense of mystery far br Beyond the evening star, br No words outworn suffice on lip or scroll: br The soul would fain with soul br br Wait, while these few swift-passing days fulfil br The wise-disposing Will, br And, in the evening as at morning, trust br The All-Merciful and Just. br br The solemn joy that soul-communion feels br Immortal life reveals; br And human love, its prophecy and sign, br Interprets love divine.