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1
DEDICATION.
I sang ten years ago: I sing to-day:
And through the intervening years my song
Has surged round chiming shores with wavelets strong
And ripples soft of many a passionate lay.
Lady, whose sweet kiss through the weary way
Hath helped me, lifted me when morns were long,
Nights dreary,—take these fancies as they throng,
Flowerbuds that chide my hair's unlyric grey.
And through the intervening years my song
Has surged round chiming shores with wavelets strong
And ripples soft of many a passionate lay.
Lady, whose sweet kiss through the weary way
Hath helped me, lifted me when morns were long,
Nights dreary,—take these fancies as they throng,
Flowerbuds that chide my hair's unlyric grey.
Thou art ever with me; we can see the sun
Now rising on the further side death's stream,
And, perhaps, our larger half of toil is done,
Our larger sorrows suffered,—and our dream
Of perfect love waits burning to be won
Hard by the deep dim waves that closelier gleam.
Now rising on the further side death's stream,
And, perhaps, our larger half of toil is done,
Our larger sorrows suffered,—and our dream
Of perfect love waits burning to be won
Hard by the deep dim waves that closelier gleam.
August 31, 1880.
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