Windle-Straws: III

Were life to last for ever, love,
We might go hand in hand,
And pause and pull the flowers that blow
In all the idle land,
And we might lie in sunny fields
And while the hours away
With fallings-out and fallings-in
For half a summer day.

But since we two must sever, love,
Since some dim hour we part,
I have no time to give thee much
But quickly take my heart,
“For ever thine,” and “thine my love,”--
O Death may come apace,
What more of love could life bestow,
Dearest, than this embrace.