THE golden glow from the west had fled, The star-flowers lit the sky, Though the queen white rose of evening spread Her leaves of light were unclosing soft Behind the willows, whose bent boughs oft Dipp'd in the dusky flood. Sad eyes seek over the scene around- Yet sadder than if tear-dimm'd and drown'd Thus I, with my own lips, set him free Thus my own words banish'd him from me, Where last midsummer I stood with him; Than the sea beyond the sky-line dim, He call'd me "pure as the stars" that eve, While my soul seem'd all of earth to leave, Borne upwards by his love. THIRD SERIES, VOL. VIII. F.S. VOL. XXVIII. N 'On another night, with sterner tone, With dark averted eye, He said, as he left me here alone, It may be best; for if he had known, 'Had I not seem'd calm, serene-alas, Was it well done? were the words well said My set soul wavers now he is dead, O lost love of my heart! In life and in death you never knew, What only I could tell, That I loved you, and never but you! Are they watching me who watch alone, The night-breeze on my brow? O calm stars, cold as glacier springs, Ye will not tell me of the things If I could but hush one haunting thought If I could dream that my love had brought Tear down the veil, let the truth be shown: He gave me, when he was most my own, No need of portrait nor hidden curl, He never forgot the gold-hair'd girl I know that hers was the right divine, For woman's beauty was never mine- To love, whose hand held the brimming cup What wonder if of his love I drank, As of the cooling wave? I know not what he withheld—I thank For a loyal tenderness and true, An accent ever kind; Yet, O my love, was it well for you Was my love your prison, not your home? You and a future that might have come, A bliss that might have been? I shall never know, I cry in vain; You will wake and call for me again. No more, no more, no more!' IZA HARDY. |