At last, when all the summer shine
  That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
  And hold them close at last at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
  Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,
  But...

Friend, whose smile has come to be
Very precious unto me,
Though I know I drank not first
Of your love’s bright fountain-burst,
Yet I grieve not for the past,
So you only love me last!

Other souls may find their joy
In the blind love of a boy:
...