By George Sterling

  Above the western hill
  A soft, great star was still;
As mute you seemed, ere love's farewell was told
  And eyes began to fill.
Soon were you gone, and soon those tears were cold
That neither pride nor pity could withhold.—

  Gone ere the star could set
  Or lips, in silence met,
Foretell the silence between you and me.
  I dreamed I could forget,
But now my heart is but your memory—
O lost in years that were or years to be!

  Now more and more we seem
  The shadows of a dream,
Learning too late what waifs of Change we are.
  Deep beyond deep thy gleam,
Remembered still, but oh! how very far—
Silver of tears and silver of the star!

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