Take out the blossom in your hair abloom,
    No more it seemeth beautiful, or bright,
And sickening is its subtly sweet perfume--
       He will not come to-night.

Take off the necklace with its sparkling gem,
    And rings that glow and glitter in the light,
And fling them in the case that waits for them--
       He will not come to-night.

Take off the robe a little while ago
    You chose, to make you fairer in his sight;
'Tis ten o'clock. So late you can but know
       He will not come to-night.

He will not come. God grant you strength and grace,
    For never more upon your mortal sight
Shall dawn a glimpse of that beloved face
       That did not come to-night.

He will not come. And through the shadowed years,
    The perfume of that blossom that you wore
Shall stir the fount of salt and bitter tears--
       For one who comes no more.