At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early
hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold
them close-at last-at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter
chilled,-
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek,
in truth,-
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke
up the blooming sward of Youth,-
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded
face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their
fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour
atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring
to burden heart or brow,-
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!