At shut of day we loved to stray,
Too long ago, too long ago,
Beside the lake whose limpid breast
Flashed back the jewel-hearted west;
And clear your silver voice would thrill
The haunted twilight, hailing still
New miracles of tint and glow.

Now when I muse horizon hues
At eventide, at eventide,
There steals through hush of weary brain
A wonder in a wistful pain;
To dark eyes brimmed with poet light,
Remembered eyes, how looks to-night
The sunset from the heavenly side?