keepsakes.
73
And we together stood beneath
The old home porch, and, half in jest,
He played the lover, kneeling low,
And a deep passion then confessed:
And when I smiled, and said I knew
His ardent love would yield to time,
He broke this golden chain in two,
And asked, when in a foreign clime
'Twas his to linger, sad and lone,
That I would sometimes gaze upon
Its glittering circles, and believe
His was no heart that could deceive.
We parted, as warm friends would part,
And he went o'er the tossing main;
Another won that faithful heart,
And he forgot the broken chain:
And now he may not think of me,
Save its bright remnant he should see.
The old home porch, and, half in jest,
He played the lover, kneeling low,
And a deep passion then confessed:
And when I smiled, and said I knew
His ardent love would yield to time,
He broke this golden chain in two,
And asked, when in a foreign clime
'Twas his to linger, sad and lone,
That I would sometimes gaze upon
Its glittering circles, and believe
His was no heart that could deceive.
We parted, as warm friends would part,
And he went o'er the tossing main;
Another won that faithful heart,
And he forgot the broken chain:
And now he may not think of me,
Save its bright remnant he should see.
A leaf—a seal—a faded flower—
Each have a different tale,
And each recall some pleasant hour,
By streamlet, wood or vale,
Each have a different tale,
And each recall some pleasant hour,
By streamlet, wood or vale,
