Childhood Friends
It sees a dead man in his wonted place,
Where by night as by day is but empty space.
Where by night as by day is but empty space.
She was sunk in thought.—With a far-off gaze,
As one who hears an old song to a zither,
She recalled a friend of her childhood days,
Who had left her. They played as two larks that twitter.
She was older a year but as wild as he.
They leapt into brooks amid splashing water,
And hand in hand they would wander free
On the darkening heath. She saw that he thought her
Too old, wishing: "Were you but small and were you
Afraid when we hark to the fir-trees sighing,
So that I over gate and stile must bear you
And through the bushes where snakes are lying!
You were born ten summers too soon for me."—
So he thought as he walked by her moodily.
Then quickly as hands of masons, plying.
The vaults and spires of a palace might rear.
They built up their lives with day and year.
When he had reached spring, her summer was near.
She sprinkled beans in the porridge-vessel
And pounded cinnamon with her pestle
And set it out on the family board,
While he thought: "How soon the rose-tree is laden
With bloom! You should still be a little maiden
As one who hears an old song to a zither,
She recalled a friend of her childhood days,
Who had left her. They played as two larks that twitter.
She was older a year but as wild as he.
They leapt into brooks amid splashing water,
And hand in hand they would wander free
On the darkening heath. She saw that he thought her
Too old, wishing: "Were you but small and were you
Afraid when we hark to the fir-trees sighing,
So that I over gate and stile must bear you
And through the bushes where snakes are lying!
You were born ten summers too soon for me."—
So he thought as he walked by her moodily.
Then quickly as hands of masons, plying.
The vaults and spires of a palace might rear.
They built up their lives with day and year.
When he had reached spring, her summer was near.
She sprinkled beans in the porridge-vessel
And pounded cinnamon with her pestle
And set it out on the family board,
While he thought: "How soon the rose-tree is laden
With bloom! You should still be a little maiden
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