I.

To love thee brings me sadness, for I know
each time the time will never come again, --
that every moment brings the darker stain
of riper manhood. Liker as we grow,
Love stirs its wings, impatient to remain.

II.

Each night of such a love from such a love doth part
thy forward-looking self. At each remove
from boyhood thou art further from my love,
though nearer to the knowledge of my heart.
Love joineth us the closer to dispart.

III.

Then thou and I to younger arms shall flee;
but thou, I think, in girlish form wilt find
what I, who knew thee throughly, flesh and mind,
and never knew another like thee,
shall never compass, leaving thee behind.