'Tis time to part, to say good-night.

Good-night.

18

 He, at parting, as they proceed down the garden:

You say you cannot wed me, now

That roses and the June are here?

To your decision I must bow.—

Ah, well! 'tis just as well, my dear:

We'll swear again each old love vow,

And wait another year.

Another year of love with you!

Of dreams and doubts, of sun and rain!

When field and forest bloom anew,

And locust clusters pelt the lane,

When all the song-birds wed and woo,

I'll not take "no" again.

Oft shall I lie awake and mark

The hours by no clanging clock,

But in the dim and distant dark

The crowing of some punctual cock;

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