Explore "Soleil Couchant" by Frederic Manning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Love is but a wind that blows / Over waves, or fields of corn, / Floating petals, falling snows, / The swift passing of the dawn.
These are all Love's signs, perchance, / Floating, fragile, drifting things!
Dead leaves are we in the dance, / Moved by his unresting wings.
Love is light within thine eyes, / Dearest! Love is all thy tears.
Let us for this hour be wise: / What have we to hope from years?