Amavimus, Amamus, Amabimus

Persephone, Persephone!     Still I fancy I can see     Thee amid the daffodils.     Golden wealth thy basket fills;     Golden blossoms at thy breast;     Golden hair that shames the West;     Golden sunlight round thy head!     Ah! the golden years have fled;     Thee have reft, and me have left     Here alone, thy loss to mourn.     Persephone, Persephone!     Still I fancy I can see     Her, as white and still she lies:     Death has woo'd and won his prize.     White the blossoms at her breast;     White and still her face at rest;     White the moonbeams round her head.     Ah! the wintry years have fled;     Comfort lent and patience sent,     And my grief is easier borne.     Persephone, Persephone!     Still in dreams thou com'st to me;     Every night art at my side,     Half my bride, and half Death's bride!     Golden blossoms at thy breast;     Golden hair that shames the West;     Golden sunlight circling thee!     Half of gold the lone years flee:     Night is glad, though day is sad,     Till I go where thou art gone.