 | The high-top sweeting And Other Poems |  |
43
HER LIFE LONG.
Once, long ago, in spring's most gracious weather,
A newly wedded pair, with hearts at rest,
Watched while a bluebird wove into its nest
A shred, a twig, a straw, a downy feather,—
Laughing like two glad children; they were blest
Wholly, in that they loved, and were together,
And May and life and hope were at their best.
A newly wedded pair, with hearts at rest,
Watched while a bluebird wove into its nest
A shred, a twig, a straw, a downy feather,—
Laughing like two glad children; they were blest
Wholly, in that they loved, and were together,
And May and life and hope were at their best.
Love's brightest garlands, fair and freshly braided,
About her way their richest fragrance threw,
Yet with a woman's prescient fear she knew
How men, grown tired of faces worn and shaded,
Seek otherwhere youth's morning bloom and dew;
“Ah, love!” she cried, “when I am old and faded,
Say, will you love me still, and still be true?”
About her way their richest fragrance threw,
Yet with a woman's prescient fear she knew
How men, grown tired of faces worn and shaded,
Seek otherwhere youth's morning bloom and dew;
“Ah, love!” she cried, “when I am old and faded,
Say, will you love me still, and still be true?”
In what most eager haste of fond replying
He soothed her doubt, and hushed her tender fears
With all the vows most sweet to woman's ears,
Soft foolish names, and happiest prophesying!
(Yet he had been—so time at lovers jeers—
When, ten long lustrums after, he lay dying,
Another's mate for more than two-score years!)
He soothed her doubt, and hushed her tender fears
With all the vows most sweet to woman's ears,
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(Yet he had been—so time at lovers jeers—
When, ten long lustrums after, he lay dying,
Another's mate for more than two-score years!)
By those sweet eyes, upraised in wistful query
To him so dearly loved, so lately wed,
Woman's most bitter tears were never shed;
She never mourned for love grown false or weary,
Or sat in dust, with ashes on her head,
In age and solitude, forgotten, dreary,—
For ere her youth had faded, she was dead.
To him so dearly loved, so lately wed,
Woman's most bitter tears were never shed;
She never mourned for love grown false or weary,
Or sat in dust, with ashes on her head,
In age and solitude, forgotten, dreary,—
For ere her youth had faded, she was dead.
Ah, happy she, to die with faith unblighted,
Before life's dawn had lost its rose-and-gold,
Or the one trusted heart grown hard and cold!
Not hers the anguish of a true soul slighted,
Humbled and rent for things of baser mould;
Happy indeed is she, who, early plighted,
Finds youth means love—and dies ere she grows old!
Before life's dawn had lost its rose-and-gold,
Or the one trusted heart grown hard and cold!
Not hers the anguish of a true soul slighted,
Humbled and rent for things of baser mould;
Happy indeed is she, who, early plighted,
Finds youth means love—and dies ere she grows old!
| The high-top sweeting And Other Poems | |