Dear hands, so many times so much
   When the spent year was green and prime,
Come, take your fill, and touch
   This one poor time.

Dear lips, that could not leave unsaid
   One sweet-souled syllable of delight,
Once more -- and be as dead
   In the dead night.

Dear eyes, so fond to read in mine
   The message of our counted years,
Look your proud last, nor shine
   Through tears -- through tears.