For we know the clod, by the grace of God Will quicken with voice and breath; And we know that Love, with gentle hand Will beckon from death to death. - Langdon Smith

Our love is old, our lives are old, And death shall come amain;
Should it come today, what man may say We shall not live again?

And, oh! what beautiful years were these When our hearts clung each to each;
When life was filled and our senses thrilled In the first faint dawn of speech.

And that was a million years ago In a time that no man knows;
Yet here tonight in the mellow light We sit at Delmonico's.
Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs, Your hair is dark as jet,
Your years are few, your life is new, Your soul untried, and yet —