172
OF A PARTING.
The spring-loosed music of the dove
Will search the emerald woods for love,
And I will long for you,
Among the blue and pearly blossoms
Far on the mossy hills, alone,
My own, my own.
Will search the emerald woods for love,
And I will long for you,
Among the blue and pearly blossoms
Far on the mossy hills, alone,
My own, my own.
But you must loose my hands and go.
Haste with those tremulous words of pain,
For I, most loved of all, I know
(The thought is full of tears) some go
And never come again;—
So wait, and let me look forever
Into the tenderness that lies
In those deep eyes.
Haste with those tremulous words of pain,
For I, most loved of all, I know
(The thought is full of tears) some go
And never come again;—
So wait, and let me look forever
Into the tenderness that lies
In those deep eyes.
Ah'! you are gone; and I—I hold
My vacant arms to all who part,
And weep for them, and long to fold
Those strangers close, and say: "I hold
Your sorrow in my heart;"
But look—the calm of stars is o'er us,
And we go toward their lighted shore,
And part no more.
My vacant arms to all who part,
And weep for them, and long to fold
Those strangers close, and say: "I hold
Your sorrow in my heart;"
But look—the calm of stars is o'er us,
And we go toward their lighted shore,
And part no more.
