When came the moment of your life to me,
After my evil years, I said: " At last
Is service, peace, and splendor; I am saved
In saving her. " The times of summer flowers
On hills beyond the city, and of stars
By twilights on the memorable lake,
The winter's reading, and the helpfulness
In mutual old simplicities of life,
Were ours by seasons, were they not? — And still
We were two lovers to the end, despite
The alien sounds forever on the stair,
And older sorrows of a shadowy house
To which a solemn duty bound us both. . . .
Two lovers to the end ... the awful end. . . .