You know that I’m your last;
I know that you’re my last.
How wonderful that last can seem like first.
The false lies in the past,
Where all faint loves do lie;
The gaining future’s fast
To fill our passion’s thirst.
And you, my lover-dove,
My only, one true love,
Begin with me to be
Love’s winning that is we.
How wonderful that last can come in first.