LINES TO ———
I OFTEN wonder where we two shall meet,
By woodland, vale, or in the busy street.
Sometimes my heart is shaken when I hear
A sudden step of some one drawing near.
O love! what will you do? will your face change?
Or will your eyes meet mine with looks grown strange?
Can love then die? Within your mighty heart
Have I for ever lost a share, a part?
No, no, a thousand times! Love such as ours
Time cannot strangle; no, nor days, nor hours.
Deep in your heart the smould'ring passion stays
One breath of mine, it leaps into a blaze!
Our eyes have but to meet for each to know
That years have had no power, nor friend, nor foe,
One little touch of hands so long apart
Would send the life-blood throbbing to your heart.
The perfume of my hair across your cheek
Would rob you of your strength and make you weak.
What matter where we meet? I know, O friend,
That thus it shall be to the bitter end.
Our hearts are true, though both are bound by ties
We cannot break. Not that way duty lies.
Oft in the lonely chamber where I rest
I think of all the love we once possessed.
Do you remember, dear, the day we met?
The glamour of it lingers round me yet.
Without—the breath of Spring was in the air;
Within—we knew it not—young love was there!
Long time we passed in silence, then I spake;
My voice the slumber of your heart did break.
Its sound, you told me since, had power to thrill
Your very being. Love, could it so still?
I know not...
Enough, what matters now, since you and I
Are sundered farther than the earth from sky?
By woodland, vale, or in the busy street.
Sometimes my heart is shaken when I hear
A sudden step of some one drawing near.
O love! what will you do? will your face change?
Or will your eyes meet mine with looks grown strange?
Can love then die? Within your mighty heart
Have I for ever lost a share, a part?
No, no, a thousand times! Love such as ours
Time cannot strangle; no, nor days, nor hours.
Deep in your heart the smould'ring passion stays
One breath of mine, it leaps into a blaze!
Our eyes have but to meet for each to know
That years have had no power, nor friend, nor foe,
One little touch of hands so long apart
Would send the life-blood throbbing to your heart.
The perfume of my hair across your cheek
Would rob you of your strength and make you weak.
What matter where we meet? I know, O friend,
That thus it shall be to the bitter end.
Our hearts are true, though both are bound by ties
We cannot break. Not that way duty lies.
Oft in the lonely chamber where I rest
I think of all the love we once possessed.
Do you remember, dear, the day we met?
The glamour of it lingers round me yet.
Without—the breath of Spring was in the air;
Within—we knew it not—young love was there!
Long time we passed in silence, then I spake;
My voice the slumber of your heart did break.
Its sound, you told me since, had power to thrill
Your very being. Love, could it so still?
I know not...
Enough, what matters now, since you and I
Are sundered farther than the earth from sky?