Love'S Aftermath! I Think The Time Is Now That We Must Gather In, Alone, Apart The Saddest Crop Of All The Crops That Grow, Love'S Aftermath. Ah, Sweet,--Sweet Yesterday, The Tears That Start Can Not Put Back The Dial; This Is, I Trow, Our Harvesting! Thy Kisses Chill My Heart, Our Lips Are Cold; Averted Eyes Avow The Twilight Of Poor Love: We Can But Part, Dumbly And Sadly, Reaping As We Sow, Love'S Aftermath.