 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
365
AN ANNIVERSARY
So long, so short,
So swift, so slow,
Are the years of man
As they come and go!
So swift, so slow,
Are the years of man
As they come and go!
O love, it was so long ago!
So long, so long that we were young,
And in the cloisters of our hearts
Hope all her joy-bells rung!
So long, so long that since that hour
Fulf half a lifetime hath gone by—
How ran the days ere first we met,
Belovéd, thou and I?
So long, so long that we were young,
And in the cloisters of our hearts
Hope all her joy-bells rung!
So long, so long that since that hour
Fulf half a lifetime hath gone by—
How ran the days ere first we met,
Belovéd, thou and I?
We had our dreams, no doubt. The dawn
Must still presage the rising sun,
And rose and crimson flush the east
Ere day is well begun.
We had our dreams—fair, shadowy wraiths
That fled when Day's full splendor kissed
Our souls' high places, and its winds
Swept the vales clear of mist!
Must still presage the rising sun,
And rose and crimson flush the east
Ere day is well begun.
We had our dreams—fair, shadowy wraiths
That fled when Day's full splendor kissed
Our souls' high places, and its winds
Swept the vales clear of mist!
So long, so short,
So swift, so slow,
Are the years of man
As they come and go!
So swift, so slow,
Are the years of man
As they come and go!
366
O love, it was but yesterday!
Who said it was so long ago?
How many times the rose hath bloomed,
Why should we care to know?
For it was just as sweet last June,
As dewy fresh, as fair, as red,
As when our first glad Eden knew
The rare perfumes it shed!
Who said it was so long ago?
How many times the rose hath bloomed,
Why should we care to know?
For it was just as sweet last June,
As dewy fresh, as fair, as red,
As when our first glad Eden knew
The rare perfumes it shed!
O love, it was but yesterday!
If yesterday is far away,
As brightly on the hill-tops lies
The sunshine of to-day.
Sing thou, my soul! O heart, be glad!
O circling years, fly swift or slow!
Your ripening harvests shall not fail,
Nor autumn's utmost glow.
If yesterday is far away,
As brightly on the hill-tops lies
The sunshine of to-day.
Sing thou, my soul! O heart, be glad!
O circling years, fly swift or slow!
Your ripening harvests shall not fail,
Nor autumn's utmost glow.
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |