We were children when we thought
⁠That the heavens were very near,
And that all our mothers taught
⁠Would to-morrow be made clear;
When we questioned everywhere,
⁠Dreading not a full reply,
When the world was just as fair,
⁠And as distant as the sky.

When the marvels that we dreamed
⁠Waited for our waking looks,
When our fairy-fables seemed
⁠Truer than our lesson-books;
When for all who well had striven,
⁠Sweet the ready garlands grew,
And when sleeping, unforgiven,
⁠Was what nobody could do.

We were children when we feared
⁠Only darkness, never light,
For our troubles disappeared
⁠Always, if they came in sight;
When our love was like our breath,
⁠Ceaseless, natural, unperceived;
When we wondered about death
⁠As a thing to be believed;

When we drew a severing line,
⁠Good from evil, night from day,
On the one side, all divine;
⁠On the other — look away!
When our wrath was swift and sure,
⁠Just because we seemed to know
Nothing wrong could touch the pure,
⁠And our loved ones all were so.

When all weariness of life
⁠Was but waiting for a bliss,
When all bitterness and strife
⁠Could be finished with a kiss;
When all spoken words were meant,
⁠When no promises could break,
When all storms were only sent
⁠For the pretty rainbow’s sake.

Over all the lovely scene
⁠Necessary darkness flowed,
Now the years that intervene
⁠Hide that once familiar road.
We remember all the way —
⁠Oh, it was so fair, so dear!
Where it led we cannot say;
⁠But we know it led not here.

For the labour wins no crown,
⁠And the strong hope dies in pain,
And the twilight settles down,
⁠And love comforts us in vain.
We have watered lifeless plants,
⁠Falsehood fills the common air,
Every footstep disenchants,
⁠There is parting everywhere.

Forest-doors are full of night;
⁠Enter, and the path shall wind
As a string of tender light,
⁠As a living wreath untwined;
Nature wastes no drop of dew,
⁠Past the dying root it flows;
What you did you never knew,
⁠Till there sprang a sudden rose.

Every branch breaks out in song
⁠ (All that birds say must be true),
Right grows in the heart of wrong -
⁠Yours the task to let it through!
Every gathered leaf decays;
⁠Wait for one immortal wreath!
What is love with life that plays
⁠To the love that lives in death?

Twilight grows so sweet and clear,
⁠We can tell that morn is nigh,
And our dead have come as near
⁠As our childhood’s happy sky.
Did the darkness only seem?
⁠Was it all our own false will?
Was our life a little dream?
⁠Father, are we children still?

Cool salt air and the white waves breaking
⁠Restless, eager, along the strand;
An evening sky and a sunset glory
⁠Fading over the sea and land;

We two sitting alone together
⁠Side by side, in the waning light;
Before us the throbbing waste of waters,
⁠Behind us the sand-heaps, drifted white.

Ships were sailing into the distance,
⁠Down to the lands where the sun had gone;
The rough fresh wind blew o'er our faces,
⁠And the shadows of night crept slowly on.

Is it a dream that I remember —
⁠Some ghost of a hope that will come no more;
We two sitting alone together,
⁠Hand in hand, on the ocean shore?