Unconscious
of the sliding hour,
Bare of the body, might it last,
And silent traces of the past
Be
all the colour of the flower:
So
then were nothing lost to man;
So that still garden of the souls
In many a figured leaf enrolls
The
total world since life began;
And
love will last as pure and whole
As when he loved me here in Time,
And at the spiritual prime
Rewaken
with the dawning soul.