If Love is what it’s meant to be

My love, thou distant friend:
When all of us is at its end
And nothing grows but words of rhyme
And every sun reverses time
When every moon is clothed in gold
As newer things are counted old
Then, my love, perhaps we’ll see
If love is what it’s meant to be
If love is what it’s meant to be
Then, my love, perhaps we’ll see
As newer things are counted old;
When every moon is clothed in gold
And every sun reverses time
And nothing grows but words of rhyme;
When all of us is at its end
O my love, thou distant friend
.
.
Won’t we meet again?