Yea, the roses are still on fire 
With the bygone heat of July, 
Though the least little wind drifting by 
Shake a rose-leaf or two from the brier, 
Be it never so soft a sigh. 

Ember of love still glows and lingers 
Deep at the red heart's smouldering core; 
With the sudden passionate throb of yore 
We shook as our eyes and clinging fingers 
Met once only to meet no more.