 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
134
THE TIME OF THE DEW-FALL.
We sat upon the smooth sea sand,
And watched the tide flow in and out,
And knew what it was all about—
Heart held in heart and hand to hand—
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
And watched the tide flow in and out,
And knew what it was all about—
Heart held in heart and hand to hand—
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
With faces toward each other leant,
We saw the green heads of the trees,
And heard the whispering of the breeze,
And knew what all the sweetness meant,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the green heads of the trees,
And heard the whispering of the breeze,
And knew what all the sweetness meant,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the long gray east o'erblown
With flowers that wore the look of light,
And they were lovely in our sight,
And all their secret meanings known,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
With flowers that wore the look of light,
And they were lovely in our sight,
And all their secret meanings known,
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
Like the thick coming of a cloud
We saw the birds, and knew each note—
Of speckled-wing, and golden-throat,
Or soft and low, or shrill and loud,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
We saw the birds, and knew each note—
Of speckled-wing, and golden-throat,
Or soft and low, or shrill and loud,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
We dropped the seed-corn in the ground
Without a single thought or fear
About the full, ripe, rounded ear,
When time should bring the harvest round,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
Without a single thought or fear
About the full, ripe, rounded ear,
When time should bring the harvest round,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
135
Ah, not in vanity or pride,
But out of love, whence wisdom springs,
We took the tangled web of things
And stretched it straight from side to side,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
But out of love, whence wisdom springs,
We took the tangled web of things
And stretched it straight from side to side,
All in the morn and the dew-fall.
Our hearts, alas, no longer beat
As one, and hand has fallen from hand,
And I am slow to understand
The things that were so plain and sweet
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
As one, and hand has fallen from hand,
And I am slow to understand
The things that were so plain and sweet
In the time of the morn and the dew-fall.
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |