A WORD AT PARTING.
TO. F. P.
Perchance because I saw thee first in June,
When the soft touches of the amorous breeze,
Played coyly with the tresses of the trees,
And glad skies flashed in summer's golden noon,—
When the soft touches of the amorous breeze,
Played coyly with the tresses of the trees,
And glad skies flashed in summer's golden noon,—
When with all precious messages of love
The fair earth teemed, the shining seas grew bright,
And star beams pierced the odorous dusky night,
Like eyes of angels looking from above,—
The fair earth teemed, the shining seas grew bright,
And star beams pierced the odorous dusky night,
Like eyes of angels looking from above,—
Perhaps for this thy memory hath grown
A perfumed thought, a fair and sunny thing,
Which each new summer back to life will bring,
And keep amid its treasures as its own!
A perfumed thought, a fair and sunny thing,
Which each new summer back to life will bring,
And keep amid its treasures as its own!
But for thy gracious reverence of thought,
And grave eyes tender smiling, and the sweet
Serene low voice with kindliness replete,
Which good from evil evermore hath brought,—
And grave eyes tender smiling, and the sweet
Serene low voice with kindliness replete,
Which good from evil evermore hath brought,—
For pleasant neighborhood, and friendly face,
The memory of thy presence still shall be
A picture full of richer tints to me
Than any limned by summer's passing grace.
The memory of thy presence still shall be
A picture full of richer tints to me
Than any limned by summer's passing grace.
And life may be with better things in tune,—
With happier dreams to make a sad hour bright
With some new pulse of freshness and delight,
Perchance,—because I saw thee first in June.
With happier dreams to make a sad hour bright
With some new pulse of freshness and delight,
Perchance,—because I saw thee first in June.