Though he I love no longer lives
My love is strong, for still it gives.
It gives of me to he, to he,
To he I love in memory,
Now bound within the life of me,
Who am his vault of sacred soul,
The secret place of dearest whole,
The clasping of unending goal,
Of love that gives to life much more,
Through admiration’s open door,
As step by step goes on before,
With he in me my highest song,
My golden bell rung on and on.
To do things well for he and I,
My head, for us, to lift up high;
In pride of spirits two in one
To feel his breath in mid-day sun.
To be alive, as he loved me,—
Oh, this is right, and it shall be.
The best of night shall be ours, too,
With tenderest quiet coming through;
The stars will twinkle both our eyes
In kindness of self-loving, wise.
His joy the dawn will through me ring
And I will rise, and of him sing.