_And the stars are old,_
_And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

Look from thy window and see
My passion and my pain;
I lie on the sands below,
And I faint in thy disdain.
Let the night-winds touch thy brow
With the heat of my burning sigh,
And melt thee to hear the vow
Of a love that shall not die
_Till the sun grows cold,_
_And the stars are old,_
_And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

My steps are nightly driven,
By the fever in my breast,
To hear from thy lattice breathed
The word that shall give me rest.
Open the door of thy heart,
And open thy chamber door,
And my kisses shall teach thy lips
The love that shall fade no more
_Till the sun grows cold,_
_And the stars are old,_
_And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

B. TAYLOR.