If thou be in a lonely place, If one hour's calm be thine, As Evening bends her placid2 face O'er this sweet day's decline； If all the earth and all the heaven Now look serene3 to thee, As o'er them shuts the summer even, One momentthink of me！
Pause, in the lane, returning home； 'Tis dusk, it will be still： Pause near the elm, a sacred gloom Its breezeless boughs4 will fill. Look at that soft and golden light, High in the unclouded sky； Watch the last bird's belated flight, As it flits silent by.
Hark！ for a sound upon the wind, A step, a voice, a sigh； If all be still, then yield thy mind, Unchecked, to memory. If thy love were like mine, how blest That twilight5 hour would seem, When, back from the regretted Past, Returned our early dream！
If thy love were like mine, how wild Thy longings6, even to pain, For sunset soft, and moonlight mild, To bring that hour again！ But oft, when in thine arms I lay, I've seen thy dark eyes shine, And deeply felt their changeful ray Spoke7 other love than mine.
My love is almost anguish8 now, It beats so strong and true； 'Twere rapture9, could I deem that thou Such anguish ever knew. I have been but thy transient flower, Thou wert my god pine； Till checked by death's congealing10 power, This heart must throb11 for thine.
And well my dying hour were blest, If life's expiring breath Should pass, as thy lips gently prest My forehead cold in death； And sound my sleep would be, and sweet, Beneath the churchyard tree, If sometimes in thy heart should beat One pulse, still true to me.
