At End of Love by Philip Bourke Marston

As one who dying in some alien place—
Some Northern Land no lavish sun makes bright—
Dreams, in the silent watches of the night,
How once it fared with him by other ways,
Through large blue eves and deep, warm, Southern days,
And seems once more to see things out of sight,
To hear old sounds that bring back old delight,
Yet knows, above them all, what words Death says:

So now, at end of Love, I ponder still
On all Love’s glory, which was once mine own,
And sweet elusive visions come to fill
My dreams with beauty; and a long lost tone
Thrills through the dark: but in the dawning chill
I shuddering wake, to know I am alone.

From: Marston, Philip Bourke, The Collected Poems of Philip Marston, 1892, Ward, Lock, Bowden, & Co.: London, p. 398.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=PcPCJu4wnasC)

Date: 1892 (published)

By: Philip Bourke Marston (1850-1887)