 | Poems by Sarah Helen Whitman |  |
78
THE LAST FLOWERS.
“The undying voice of that dead time,
With its interminable chime,
Rings on my spirit like a knell.”
With its interminable chime,
Rings on my spirit like a knell.”
Dost thou remember that Autumnal day
When by the Seekonk's lonely wave we stood,
And marked the languor of repose that lay,
Softer than sleep, on valley, wave, and wood?
When by the Seekonk's lonely wave we stood,
And marked the languor of repose that lay,
Softer than sleep, on valley, wave, and wood?
A trance of holy sadness seemed to lull
The charmèd earth and circumambient air,
And the low murmur of the leaves seemed full
Of a resigned and passionless despair.
The charmèd earth and circumambient air,
And the low murmur of the leaves seemed full
Of a resigned and passionless despair.
Though the warm breath of summer lingered still
In the lone paths where late her footsteps passed,
The pallid star-flowers on the purple hill
Sighed dreamily, “We are the last! the last!”
In the lone paths where late her footsteps passed,
The pallid star-flowers on the purple hill
Sighed dreamily, “We are the last! the last!”
79
I stood beside thee, and a dream of heaven
Around me like a golden halo fell!
Then the bright veil of fantasy was riven,
And my lips murmured, “Fare thee well!—farewell!”
Around me like a golden halo fell!
Then the bright veil of fantasy was riven,
And my lips murmured, “Fare thee well!—farewell!”
I dared not listen to thy words, nor turn
To meet the mystic language of thine eyes,
I only felt their power, and in the urn
Of memory, treasured their sweet rhapsodies.
To meet the mystic language of thine eyes,
I only felt their power, and in the urn
Of memory, treasured their sweet rhapsodies.
We parted then, forever,—and the hours
Of that bright day were gathered to the past,—
But, through long wintry nights, I heard the flowers
Sigh dreamily, “We are the last!—the last!”
Of that bright day were gathered to the past,—
But, through long wintry nights, I heard the flowers
Sigh dreamily, “We are the last!—the last!”
September, 1849.
| Poems by Sarah Helen Whitman | |