If some day in the after-years,1
As one aweary of the strife,2
With nothing left save bitter fears3
That mine had been a wasted life4
Should sense of failure bring despair,5
And sin’s remorse increase the pain,6
Without a friend the grief to share,7
What joy can then for me remain ?8
Ah this—that once in summer weather,9
Ere yet we dreamed of youth’s decline,10
We spent one livelong day together,11
That I was yours, and you were mine.12