The coal oil lamp is now no more,
With flame to dimness fingered.
A gleaming chandelier is o’er
The spot where lovers lingered.
Where all is bright they will not go.
No one can change or doubt it.
They want to sit where lights are low.
What can I do about it?
It was much easier for me
In days that now are olden,
When prying people could not see.
Then all love’s dreams were golden.
They sought a corner that the night
Had curtained--you have seen them;
But now the dusk-destroying light,
Alas, has come between them.