Retrospect

Oh, strange to me, and terrible it seems
To think that, ere I met you, you and I
Lived, both, beneath the same all-covering sky;
Had the same childhood's hopes and childhood's schemes;
And, later on, our beautiful false dreams:
The funerals of my dead joys passed me by.
And things, expected long, at length drew nigh.
The joy that slays and sorrow that redeems

Were ours before that day whereon we met,
And all the weary way that God had set
Between us was past over, and my soul
Knew in your fatal loveliness its goal.
'Twas mine to love, 'twas yours, sweet, to forget;
For you the haven, and for me the shoal.