IN WAR TIME
Hallows his dreams at night.
A little while, and the scenes
Of the play of Life are closed;
Come, let us rest an hour,
And by the pleasant streams,
Under the fresh, green trees,
Let us walk hand and hand,
And think of the days that were.
VI
1
On river and height and salty moors the haze of autumn fell,
And the cloud of a troubled joy enwrapt the face of Hugh as well,—
The spell of a secret haunt that far from home his footsteps drew;
A love which over the brow of youth the mask of manhood threw.
Birds of the air to the father, at length, the common rumor brought:
"Your son," they sang, "in the cunning toils of a rustic lass is caught!"
"A fit betrothal," the lawyer said, "must make these follies cease;
Which shall it be?—the banker's ward?—Edith, the judge's niece?"
"Father, I pray"—said Hugh. "O yes!" out-leapt the other's mood,
"I hear of your wanton loiterings; they ill become your blood!
If you hold our name at such light worth, forbear to darken the life
Of this Alice Dale"—"No, Alice Van Ghelt! father, she is my wife."
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