 | Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox |  |
GUILO
Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.
Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.
Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.
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I love but thee, my Guilo! be content,
The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure.
The future is thy God's. The past is spent.
To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.
The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure.
The future is thy God's. The past is spent.
To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.
See how I love thee, Guilo! Lips and eyes
Could never under thy fond gaze dissemble.
I could not feign these passion-laden sighs,
Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.
Could never under thy fond gaze dissemble.
I could not feign these passion-laden sighs,
Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.
“So I loved Romney.” Hush, thou foolish one—
I should forget him wholly, wouldst thou let me;
Or but remember that his day was done
From that most supreme hour when first I met thee.
I should forget him wholly, wouldst thou let me;
Or but remember that his day was done
From that most supreme hour when first I met thee.
“And Paul?” Well, what of Paul? Paul had blue eyes,
And Romney grey, and thine are darkly tender!
One finds fresh feelings under change of skies—
A new horizon brings a newer splendour.
And Romney grey, and thine are darkly tender!
One finds fresh feelings under change of skies—
A new horizon brings a newer splendour.
As I love thee, I never loved before;
Believe me, Guilo, for I speak most truly.
What though to Romney and to Paul I swore
The selfsame words; my heart now worships newly.
Believe me, Guilo, for I speak most truly.
What though to Romney and to Paul I swore
The selfsame words; my heart now worships newly.
We never feel the same emotion twice:
No two ships ever ploughed the selfsame billow.
The waters change, with every fall and rise;
So, Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.
No two ships ever ploughed the selfsame billow.
The waters change, with every fall and rise;
So, Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.
| Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |