The Question

I

The sea moans and the stars are bright,
The leaves lisp 'neath a rolling moon.
I shut my eyes against the night
And make believe the time is June--
The June that left us over-soon.

This is the path and this the place
We sat and watched the moving sea,
And I the moonlight on your face.
We were not happy--woe is me,
Happiness is but memory!

It seemeth, now that you are gone,
My heart a measured pain doth keep:--
Are you now, as I am, alone?
Do you make merry, do you weep?
In whose arms are you now asleep?