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A SONG OF MEMORY.


Here it was I saw her last:
When the farewells all were said,
Through the garden speeding fast
She o'ertook me breathless, led
By some gentle after-thought,
That she spoke not yet, but smiled
As I stooped to set me free
From a wild-briar clinging, "See,
This kind weed to stay thee sought,
Yet wilt thou break from it and me;"
Then she clasped me, smiling still
Through the shining of a tear,
"Come and go, dear friend, at will,
Comfort still thou leavest here;
Should the future days bereave,
Never with a chiding sore
Can the bygone bid us grieve
That we loved not in them more!"

So we parted where we stood
In the ancient gateway; then
As I hurried down the wood,
Once I turned to look again