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To . . . .

Two shining eyes that never lose their light,
Haunting with dreams like stars within the night;
Two rosy lips whose magic kisses fall
Wild on my own in passion magical.

Two shining eyes that ever gaze on me,
Haunting as some old Irish melody;
Two rosy lips that ever seem to press,
Right thro' my dreams, on mine their own caress.

Tho' Hope be dim, tho' fade Youth's rosy flush;
Tho' Death may come, tho' Life my spirit crush;
Two haunting eyes will never cease to shine:
Two magic lips will ever press on mine.

November, 1915.



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