Afterward (Btb)

Tho Fate, for quiet prayer, might grant me all, Little I ask beside the lasting grace And benediction of thy dear embrace — That hour of dream which holds my heart in thrall. Tho many voices of enchantment call, One mercy would I beg from Time and Space— The final contemplation of thy face Till Lethe sunder and the darkness fall. And ah! may then thy face, a changeless light, Companion me thro' aeons of the night! — Filling that realm with marvel and desire And making death not altogether sleep, But rather as a gloom whose altars keep A timeless vision and a ghostly fire.