“ ’TIS PITY—” 
27 
 
Fails to us speech 
In Love’s exultant leaping ! 
Each merged in each 
The golden fruit is reaping ! 
 
     .          .          .          .          .          .          . 
Wilt slumber, dear ?  One last kiss, I beseech ! 
 
     .          .          .          .          .          .          . 
Come to us, Death !  My love and I are sleeping !