Yes, they are the self-same eyes
That still brighten as I greet her,
Yes, they are the self-same lips
That made all my life seem sweeter.
Yes, it is the very voice,
At whose slightest tones I faltered
But no more the same am I;
I wend homeward strangely altered.
By the fair white arms embraced
With a close and tender passion,
Now I lie upon her heart,
Dull of brain, in cold vexation.