Sad no more
The Old Year reached the Golden Door
Just as the Hours with crystal clang
Aside the shining portals bent,
And murmuring 'mong the spheres there rang
The chorus of earth's acknowledgment.
One had passed out of the Golden Door,
And one had gone in forevermore.
HE AND SHE.
Under the pines sat a young man and maiden:
"Love," said he, "life is sweet, think'st thou not so?"
Sweet were her eyes, full of pictures of Aidenn—
"Life," said she, "love is sweet; no more I know."
Into the wide world the maid and her lover
Wandered by pathways that sundered them far;
From pine groves to palm groves he flitted, a rover,
She tended his roses, and watched for his star.
Oft he said softly, while melting eyes glistened,
"Sweet is my life, love, with you ever near";
Morning and evening she waited and listened
For a voice and a footstep that never came near.
Fainting at last on her threshold she found him;
"Life is but ashes and bitter," he sighed.
She, with her tender arms folded about him,
Whispered, "But love is still sweet"—and so died.
Sprague River, Or., 1873.
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