The West a glimmering lake of light,
A dream of pearly weather,
The first of stars is burning white –
The star we watch together.
Is April dead? The unresting year
Will shape us our September,
And April’s work is done, my dear –
Do you not remember?
O gracious eve! O happy star,
Still-flashing, glowing, sinking! –
Who lives of lovers near or far
So glad as I in thinking?
The gallant world is warm and green,
For May fulfils November.
When lights and leaves and loves have been,
Sweet, will you remember?
O star benignant and serene,
I take the good to-morrow,
That fills from verge to verge my dream,
With all its joy and sorrow!
The old, sweet spell is unforgot
That turns to June December;
And, tho’ the world remembered not,
Love, we would remember.