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Poem	Our hands have met, our lips have met Our souls - who knows when the wind blows How light souls drift mid longings set, If thou forget'st, can I forget The time that was not long ago? Thou wert not silent then, but told Sweet secrets dear - I drew so near Thy shamefaced cheeks grown overbold, That scarce thine eyes might I behold! Ah was it then so long ago! Trembled my lips and thou wouldst turn But hadst no heart to draw apart, Beneath my lips thy cheek did burn - Yet no rebuke that I might learn; Yea kind looks still, not long ago. Wilt thou be glad upon the day When unto me this love shall be An idle fancy passed away, And we shall meet and smile and say 'O wasted sighs of long ago!' Wilt thou rejoice that thou hast set Cold words, dull shows 'twixt hearts drawn close, That cold at heart I live on yet, Forgetting still that I forget The priceless days of long ago?
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