Beloved

Beloved, we have known long hours of quietude, sweet paths of shadow.
Never a fear, yet we have confided wonderingly of what lay beyond.
I have said: "Low hillocks and sweet valleys, and the same familiar stars,
Made pale, mayhap, by that illumination, awesome in its golden purity."
I have said: "Familiar mornings with the waking birds."
I have said: "Fair nights wherein dreams weaved fantastically---old dreams."
I have said: "Familiar scenes and living dreams."
And thou, beloved, didst look to me with sad, sweet eyes and smile,
Thy pale lips whispering:
"Aye, all of this, and yet---and yet---
My love is here."