Autumn.

Yes! yes! I dare say it is so,     And you should be pitied, but how could I know,     Watching alone by the moon-lit bay;     But that is past for many a day,     For the woman that loved, died years ago,          Years ago.     She had loving eyes, with a wistful look     In their depths that day, and I know you took     Her face in your hands and read it o'er,     As if you should never see it more;     You were right, for she died long years ago,          Years ago.     Had I trusted you - for trust, you know     Will keep love's fire forever aglow;     Then what would have mattered storm or sun,     But the watching - the waiting, all is done;     For the woman that loved, died years ago,          Years ago.     Yes; I think you are constant, true and good,     I am tired, and would love you if I could;     I am tired, oh, friend, tired out; and yet,     Can we make sweet morn of the dim sunset?     The woman that loved, died years ago,          Years ago.     Not a pulse of my heart is stirred by you,     No; even your tears cannot move me now;     So leave me alone, what is said is said,     What boots your prayers, she is dead! is dead!     The woman you loved, long years ago,         Years ago.