 | Experiences |  |
53
THE LAST TIME.
This is the last time we shall sit and see
The dreaming hills so dear to you and me;
The last time that this mountain wind so cool
Shall lave us in its freshness beautiful.
The dreaming hills so dear to you and me;
The last time that this mountain wind so cool
Shall lave us in its freshness beautiful.
The last time we shall go in the dim dusk,
Down the steep golf-links, sweet with honey and musk
Of the evening fragrance; and the last sad time
We'll hear across these fields the vesper chime.
Down the steep golf-links, sweet with honey and musk
Of the evening fragrance; and the last sad time
We'll hear across these fields the vesper chime.
We shall not hear again the wood-doves all
Crooning, when shades of night begin to fall,
Nor smell again yon pines that fill the night
And day with their spilt odours of delight.
Crooning, when shades of night begin to fall,
Nor smell again yon pines that fill the night
And day with their spilt odours of delight.
We shall not sleep and wake so fresh, so gay,
Under our cottage eaves to the bright day,
Nor see across the lawn the exquisite trees
Flinging long shadows over the pale leas.
Under our cottage eaves to the bright day,
Nor see across the lawn the exquisite trees
Flinging long shadows over the pale leas.
Our life is full of last times: yet we go
With a high heart of courage, since we know
We go together, we and our small brood,
Dear imps of mischief, quaint and wild and good.
With a high heart of courage, since we know
We go together, we and our small brood,
Dear imps of mischief, quaint and wild and good.
With a high heart of courage we can face,
Hand fast in hand, all change of time and place,
The dark fogs and the winter and the streets,
We have our secret greenness, our retreats.
Hand fast in hand, all change of time and place,
The dark fogs and the winter and the streets,
We have our secret greenness, our retreats.
54
Yet in all last times there is hid a grief,
A canker in the flower and in the leaf,
Over them lies a shadow not their own,
From some most bitter day, my dear, my own.
A canker in the flower and in the leaf,
Over them lies a shadow not their own,
From some most bitter day, my dear, my own.
When for the last time I shall walk with you,
(Even old friends must part though dear and true,)
We who were always glad, being side by side,
Shall reach that point at last where ways divide.
(Even old friends must part though dear and true,)
We who were always glad, being side by side,
Shall reach that point at last where ways divide.
And for the sake of the last talk, last walk,
To-night the flower goes withering on its stalk,
There's desolation on the hills and sea,
Because of the last time that's yet to be.
To-night the flower goes withering on its stalk,
There's desolation on the hills and sea,
Because of the last time that's yet to be.
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