Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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Dedication.
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 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
15
Dedication.
COOING TIME.
We two are getting gray and old
And in the yellow leaf,
And soon will come the evening time,
When falling shadows wax more cold,
And harvest bells to service chime,
To carry home the sheaf;
But both have drunk of pleasure's fount,
And had our happy loves,
Nor do we grudge to give account
Of duty, as is done by all;
For though we droop, we can recall
The cooing time of doves.
And in the yellow leaf,
And soon will come the evening time,
When falling shadows wax more cold,
And harvest bells to service chime,
To carry home the sheaf;
But both have drunk of pleasure's fount,
And had our happy loves,
Nor do we grudge to give account
Of duty, as is done by all;
For though we droop, we can recall
The cooing time of doves.
Dear wife, thou never canst look old,
Nor feeble is thy tread
To one who reads the changeless truth,
And knew thy morning's radiant mould;
For I do see eternal youth,
Behind the sweet grey head.
And I remember when a boy
I touched thy tiny gloves,
And found a new and undreamed joy
In kissing them, and still I hear
Across the gulf of many a year,
The cooing time of doves.
Nor feeble is thy tread
To one who reads the changeless truth,
And knew thy morning's radiant mould;
For I do see eternal youth,
Behind the sweet grey head.
And I remember when a boy
I touched thy tiny gloves,
And found a new and undreamed joy
In kissing them, and still I hear
Across the gulf of many a year,
The cooing time of doves.
Sweetheart, our feelings are not old,
Nor find the growing gloom;
The sunrise yet is on thy hair,
Thy brow is innocently bold,
I mark the bud which promised fair
In thy calm autumn bloom.
And though we reaped our bitter share,
The angry shouts and shoves
Which wedded us again in care,
We had each other's conscious ken,
And treasured on unharmed by men,
The cooing time of doves.
Nor find the growing gloom;
The sunrise yet is on thy hair,
Thy brow is innocently bold,
I mark the bud which promised fair
In thy calm autumn bloom.
16
The angry shouts and shoves
Which wedded us again in care,
We had each other's conscious ken,
And treasured on unharmed by men,
The cooing time of doves.
But if thy roses must get old,
And gather of the shade
Which may not hurt our better part,
It's but the severing from the gold
Of earthly dross, and hand and heart
Together do we fade.
Alight we hold the ancient flame
Which warmed our early loves,
Our mingled hopes are just the same,
And life in waking or in sleep
Abideth one, and now we keep
The cooing time of doves.
And gather of the shade
Which may not hurt our better part,
It's but the severing from the gold
Of earthly dross, and hand and heart
Together do we fade.
Alight we hold the ancient flame
Which warmed our early loves,
Our mingled hopes are just the same,
And life in waking or in sleep
Abideth one, and now we keep
The cooing time of doves.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |