Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821–1895)

AH me, dread friends of mine,—Love, Time, and Death!

Sweet Love who came to me on sheeny wing

And gave her to my arms—her lips, her breath,

And all her golden ringlets clustering:

And Time, who gathers in the flying years—

He gave me all, but where is all he gave?

He took my Love and left me barren tears,—

Weary and lone I follow to the grave.

There Death will end this vision half-divine,—

Wan Death, who waits in shadow evermore,

And silent, ere he give the sudden sign;

O, gently lead me thro’ thy narrow door,

Thou gentle Death, thou trustiest friend of mine,

—Ah me for Love … will Death my Love restore?