When he lit the candles there,

And the light fell on his hand,

And it trembled as he scanned

Her and me, his vanquished air

Hinted that his dream was done,

And I saw he had begun

   To understand.

When Love’s viol was unstrung,

Sore I wished the hand that shook

Had been mine that shared her book

While that evening hymn was sung,

His the victor’s, as he lit

Candles where he had bidden us sit

   With vanquished look.

Now her dust lies listless there,

His afar from tending hand,

What avails the victory scanned?

Does he smile from upper air:

“Ah, my friend, your dream is done;

And ’tis you who have begun

   To understand!