XLII

A WINK from Hesper, falling

Fast in the wintry sky,

Comes through the even blue,

Dear, like a word from you . . .

Is it good-bye?

Across the miles between us

I send you sigh for sigh.

Good-night, sweet friend, good-night:

Till life and all take flight,

Never good-bye.

Poems(#1568) · 第 57 / 75 题