* * *

For the last time I risk caresses
In fancy on your darling face.
To waken dreams my strong heart presses.
And softly, shy of its distresses,
Your love for me it would retrace.

Our life is hurrying and changes;
Everything changes; we change too;
And him, whose song through passion ranges.
Gloom of the grave from you estranges;
He, once your friend, is dead to you.

Take it, my friend far separated,
This last leave-taking of my heart,
As would a widow desolated,
Or friend from friend to exile fated,
In silent kiss before they part.