Good-night! . . . my darling sleeps so sound
She cannot hear me where she lies;
White lilies watch the closed eyes,
Red roses guard the folded hands.
Good-night! O woman who once lay
Upon my breast, so still, so sweet
That all my pulses, throbbing, beat
And flamed -- I cannot touch you now.
Good-night, my own! God knows we loved
So well, that all things else seemed slight --
We part forever in the night,
We two poor souls who loved so well.
Bernard O'Dowd.