IV
Onlyuntil this cigarette is ended,A little moment at the end of all,While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,And in the firelight to a lance extended,Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,The broken shadow dances on the wall,I will permit my memory to recallThe vision of you, by all my dreams attended.And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.Yours is a face of which I can forgetThe colour and the features, every one,The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;But in your day this moment is the sunUpon a hill, after the sun has set.
Onlyuntil this cigarette is ended,A little moment at the end of all,While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,And in the firelight to a lance extended,Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,The broken shadow dances on the wall,I will permit my memory to recallThe vision of you, by all my dreams attended.And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.Yours is a face of which I can forgetThe colour and the features, every one,The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;But in your day this moment is the sunUpon a hill, after the sun has set.
Onlyuntil this cigarette is ended,A little moment at the end of all,While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,And in the firelight to a lance extended,Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,The broken shadow dances on the wall,I will permit my memory to recallThe vision of you, by all my dreams attended.And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.Yours is a face of which I can forgetThe colour and the features, every one,The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;But in your day this moment is the sunUpon a hill, after the sun has set.