 | Lays of France |  |
He who ne'er felt upon his brow
The perfect blessing of her kiss,
Stayed his long thirst with thinking how
Some early and far-reaching smile,
That looked on many a distant mile
Of golden promise, seemed to bind
His love to follow her and find
Dim outskirts of her life to cling
With solace in; and, where the chill
And changeless dark spread covering
His patient soul, he thought it still
Her shadow on him; and a thrill
That was not joyless turned the sting
Of death.
The perfect blessing of her kiss,
Stayed his long thirst with thinking how
Some early and far-reaching smile,
That looked on many a distant mile
Of golden promise, seemed to bind
His love to follow her and find
Dim outskirts of her life to cling
With solace in; and, where the chill
And changeless dark spread covering
His patient soul, he thought it still
Her shadow on him; and a thrill
That was not joyless turned the sting
Of death.
| Lays of France | |