 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
XIII—AFTER MANY DAYS
Dear heart, I would that after many days,When we are gone, true lovers in a book
Might find these faithful songs of ours. “O look!”
I hear him murmur while he straightway lays
His finger on the page, and she doth raise
Her eyes to his. Then, like the winter brook
From whose young limbs a sudden summer shook
The fetters, love flows on in sunny ways.
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The world might hold thy unforgotten name
Inviolate in these eternal rhymes.
I would have poets say: “Let not the art
Wherewith they loved be lost! To us the blame
Should love grow less in these our modern times.”
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |