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Poem	"O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine, And let the tears together flow"-- Such was the song you sang to me Once, long ago. Such was the song you sang; and yet (O be not wroth!) I scarcely knew What sounds flow'd forth; I only felt That you were you. I scarcely knew your hair was gold, Nor of the heavens' own blue your eyes. Sylvia and song, divinely mixt, Made Paradise. These things I scarcely knew; to-day, When love is lost and hope is fled, The song you sang so long ago Rings in my head. Clear comes each note and true; to-day, As in a picture I behold Your tur'd-up chin, and small, sweet head Misty with gold. I see how your dear eyes grew deep, How your lithe body thrilled and swayed, And how were whiter than the keys Your hands that played. . . Ah, sweetest! cruel have you been, And robbed my life of many things. I will not chide; ere this I knew That Love had wings. You've robbed my life of many things-- Of love and hope, of fame and pow'r. So be it, sweet. You cannot steal One golden hour.
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