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Now the purple night is past, Now the moon more faintly glows, Dawn has through thy casement cast Roses on thy breast, a rose; Now the kisses are all done, Now the world awakes anew, Now the charméd hour is gone, Let not love go, too. When old winter, creeping nigh, Sprinkles raven hair with white, Dims the brightly glancing eye, Laughs away the dancing light, Roses may forget their sun, Lilies may forget their dew, Beauties perish, one by one, Let not love go, too. Palaces and towers of pride Crumble year by year away; Creeds like robes are laid aside, Even our very tombs decay! When the all-conquering moth and rust Gnaw the goodly garment through, When the dust returns to dust, Let not love go, too. Kingdoms melt away like snow, Gods are spent like wasting flames, Hardly the new peoples know Their divine thrice-worshipped names! At the last great hour of all, When Thou makest all things new, Father, hear Thy children call, Let not love go, too. |