All´s over, then: does truth sound bitter
As one at first believes
Hark "tis the sparows" good-night twitter
About your cottage eaves!

And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly
I noticed that, to- day;
One day more bursts them open fully
-You know the red turns grey

Tomorrow we meet the same then, dearest?
May I take your hand in mine?
Mere friends are we,- well, friends the merest
Keep much thas I resign

For each glance of the eye so bright and black,
Though keep with hear´s endeavour,-
Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back,
Though it stay in my soul for ever!-

Yet I will but say what mere friends say,
Or only a thought stronger;
I will hold your hand but as long as all may,
Or so very little longer.
Rober Browning