After Tea

See how the agèd trembling hands of Day Spill over the white cloth and tea-cups blue, Red wine from his last goblet poured away; So let me by the window sit with you, And watch the sun drop down behind the trees, Or gleam across the snow--a crimson bar; For in still, mystic moments such as these Down unknown by-ways we may wander far. The crimson turns to purple on the snow, The orange sky grown gray, and glimmering lights Of scattered star-lamps through the darkness glow; But neither Night nor Death my soul affrights, For clear there gleams, all earthly dark above, The ever-burning star-lamp of your love.