Man and Spring

When love upon the man's side falls away,
And delicate finger-tips and the slow kiss
Which kindled once such wild, delirious bliss
As no words seemed intense enough to say.
And dear, low voice, and eyes that seemed to pray
For Love's reply, — when, at the last, of this
Only the unavailing memory is, —
"Once it was sweet; once, on a far-off day —"

Is there in life, indeed, a sadder thing? —
I answer, there is one thing even more sad, —
To greet with loveless heart and eyes the Spring,
In which of old such pure high joy we had;
To grieve anew, when all her glad birds sing.
Remembering that we too — we once were glad.