 | To the end of the trail |  |
133
PARTING
Gone, and I spoke no word to bid her stay!Gone, and I sit benumbed and scarce can rise;—
Gone with the light of new love in her eyes,
The splendid promise of the fervent day.
She loves me, Ocean, loves me! And I may
Not lisp the whisper of my great surprise,
Save to the waves and pebbles and the skies
And to the sea-gulls circling in the spray.
She loves me! Till she went I did not know
Her soul. This is a mystery which no art
Can picture and no wisdom understand.
And she is gone and I beheld her go,
With so much awe at sight of her pure heart
I dared not kiss the fingers of her hand.
| To the end of the trail | |