 | The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton |  |
134
PARLEYING.
I hold a shadow's cold, soft hand,
I look in eyes you cannot see,
And words you cannot understand
Come back, as from a distant land,—
The far-off land of Memory.
I look in eyes you cannot see,
And words you cannot understand
Come back, as from a distant land,—
The far-off land of Memory.
Forgive me that I sit apart
And hold the shadow's hand in mine,
The past broods darkly in my heart,
And bitter are the tears that start;
I would not mix them with the wine.
And hold the shadow's hand in mine,
The past broods darkly in my heart,
And bitter are the tears that start;
I would not mix them with the wine.
The hour will pass: the shade will go
To his dark home, and swift forget,
At rest the daisied turf below,
The sun-warmed hours we used to know,
And the old paths wherein we met.
To his dark home, and swift forget,
At rest the daisied turf below,
The sun-warmed hours we used to know,
And the old paths wherein we met.
I am alive! Why should the dead
With cold hand hold the quick in thrall?
To his far place the shade has sped,
Now Life with Life may gayly wed!
... My heart misgives me, after all.
With cold hand hold the quick in thrall?
To his far place the shade has sped,
Now Life with Life may gayly wed!
... My heart misgives me, after all.
| The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton | |