 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
167
EVELYN.
Stars looked softly from the heaven,—fireflies glimmered in the grass,—
Brightly down the moonlit river did the golden ripples pass
On that lovely night in summer, when my heart to yours, alas,
Told its love-tale, Evelyn!
Brightly down the moonlit river did the golden ripples pass
On that lovely night in summer, when my heart to yours, alas,
Told its love-tale, Evelyn!
I was stern, ambitious, worldly,—rugged as a mountain pine,
You were fragile, sweet and loving,—like a fond and clinging vine;—
You were all too finely moulded for a nature such as mine,—
Time has proved it, Evelyn!
You were fragile, sweet and loving,—like a fond and clinging vine;—
You were all too finely moulded for a nature such as mine,—
Time has proved it, Evelyn!
As a rude child plucks a lily, whose sweet life has just begun,
Crushing it unkindly, heedless of the treasure he has won,
Till the fragile blossom withers,—perishes as you have done,
Thus I won you, Evelyn!
Crushing it unkindly, heedless of the treasure he has won,
Till the fragile blossom withers,—perishes as you have done,
Thus I won you, Evelyn!
168
Ah, there never shone a morning half so lovely and divine
As the one which saw us standing at the altar's sacred shrine,
When I listened half-enraptured, as your sweet lips uttered, “Thine
And forever!” Evelyn!
As the one which saw us standing at the altar's sacred shrine,
When I listened half-enraptured, as your sweet lips uttered, “Thine
And forever!” Evelyn!
Oh, it seems but yester morning that I saw you standing there,
While your pure heart's bashful throbbings shook the white buds in your hair,
And amid your loose curls gleaming rose your shoulders pale and fair,—
You were lovely, Evelyn!
While your pure heart's bashful throbbings shook the white buds in your hair,
And amid your loose curls gleaming rose your shoulders pale and fair,—
You were lovely, Evelyn!
But I wronged your fond affection and your high heart's holy trust,—
Left your heart, a harp neglected, till its strings grew dim with rust,—
Brought your fair head's golden tresses down in sorrow to the dust,
I who loved you, Evelyn!
Left your heart, a harp neglected, till its strings grew dim with rust,—
Brought your fair head's golden tresses down in sorrow to the dust,
I who loved you, Evelyn!
Yes, I loved you,—but my spirit could not to your own aspire,—
Mine was of the world, and worldly;—yours, a gleam of heavenly fire;—
I gave earthly love and blessing,—but you longed for something higher,
Which I had not, Evelyn!
Mine was of the world, and worldly;—yours, a gleam of heavenly fire;—
I gave earthly love and blessing,—but you longed for something higher,
Which I had not, Evelyn!
169
Never on your tender beauty blew a blast too cold or rude,—
Yours was all that wealth could purchase,—yours was every earthly good,
Dainty fare, rich gems and garments,—but your spirit pined for food,
And I starved it, Evelyn!
Yours was all that wealth could purchase,—yours was every earthly good,
Dainty fare, rich gems and garments,—but your spirit pined for food,
And I starved it, Evelyn!
I remember all your kindness, all your patience mild and meek,
How a word or look unloving brought the color to your cheek,
But you never chid or blamed me, though ungently I might speak,—
Dear, forgiving Evelyn!
How a word or look unloving brought the color to your cheek,
But you never chid or blamed me, though ungently I might speak,—
Dear, forgiving Evelyn!
It was in the sweet October, when the earth was paved with gold,
When the days were warm and rosy, and the nights were chill and cold,
As the banner of the sunset was above the hills unrolled,
That you left me, Evelyn!
When the days were warm and rosy, and the nights were chill and cold,
As the banner of the sunset was above the hills unrolled,
That you left me, Evelyn!
Unseen spirits circled round you, singing soft seraphic psalms,
Unseen wings about you waving, fanned you with elysian balms,—
I was very near to heaven, when within my clasping arms,
You lay dying, Evelyn!
Unseen wings about you waving, fanned you with elysian balms,—
I was very near to heaven, when within my clasping arms,
You lay dying, Evelyn!
170
From my neck your arm fell slowly, failing from its light embrace,—
Drooped your sunny lashes softly,—faded life's last rosy trace,—
And the bright waves of your tresses flowed around a still pale face,—
You were dead, my Evelyn!
Drooped your sunny lashes softly,—faded life's last rosy trace,—
And the bright waves of your tresses flowed around a still pale face,—
You were dead, my Evelyn!
But they said you lived with angels,—darling, did they tell me true?
Tell me, are your sister-angels bright and beautiful as you?
Do they love you, my adored one, better than I used to do?
No, they can not, Evelyn!
Tell me, are your sister-angels bright and beautiful as you?
Do they love you, my adored one, better than I used to do?
No, they can not, Evelyn!
Does the memory of sorrow reach beyond this clouded sphere?
Does your pure heart still remember all the pain it suffered here?
Do you look upon me kindly, in my anguish lone and drear?
Do you love me, Evelyn?
Does your pure heart still remember all the pain it suffered here?
Do you look upon me kindly, in my anguish lone and drear?
Do you love me, Evelyn?
Tell me, is the love of angels like the love which mortals know?
Do you tell them mournful stories of your earthly long ago?—
Do they ever bring you tidings of the lone one left below?—
Do they call you “Evelyn?”
Do you tell them mournful stories of your earthly long ago?—
Do they ever bring you tidings of the lone one left below?—
Do they call you “Evelyn?”
171
Though your face so sweet and gentle underneath the grass-blooms lies,
Silent, lifeless, unreproving,—yet your spirit never dies,—
Wheresoever I may wander, still your sad rebuking eyes
Come and haunt me, Evelyn!
Silent, lifeless, unreproving,—yet your spirit never dies,—
Wheresoever I may wander, still your sad rebuking eyes
Come and haunt me, Evelyn!
Ah, a dark fate is upon me, since I wronged your gentle trust,—
Life's best joys, like Dead Sea apples, on my lips have turned to dust,—
Fearfully are you avengèd,—but my punishment is just,—
I have earned it, Evelyn!
Life's best joys, like Dead Sea apples, on my lips have turned to dust,—
Fearfully are you avengèd,—but my punishment is just,—
I have earned it, Evelyn!
Yet not long shall be our parting; with a thrill of joy divine,
I recall the blest assurance which your dear eyes gave to mine,
On that happy bridal morning as your sweet lips uttered, “Thine,
And forever!” Evelyn!
I recall the blest assurance which your dear eyes gave to mine,
On that happy bridal morning as your sweet lips uttered, “Thine,
And forever!” Evelyn!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |