 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
199
TWO SUMMERS.
Last summer, when athwart the sky
Shone the immeasurable days,
We wandered slowly, you and I,
Adown these leafy forest-ways,
Shone the immeasurable days,
We wandered slowly, you and I,
Adown these leafy forest-ways,
With laugh and song and sportive speech,
And mirthful tales of earlier years,
Though deep within the soul of each
Lay thoughts too sorrowful for tears,
And mirthful tales of earlier years,
Though deep within the soul of each
Lay thoughts too sorrowful for tears,
Because—I marked it many a time—
Your feet grew slower day by day,
And where I did not fear to climb
You paused to find an easier way.
Your feet grew slower day by day,
And where I did not fear to climb
You paused to find an easier way.
And all the while a boding fear
Pressed hard and heavy on my heart;
Yet still with words of hope and cheer
I bade the gathering grief depart,
Pressed hard and heavy on my heart;
Yet still with words of hope and cheer
I bade the gathering grief depart,
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Saying, “When next these purple bells
And these red columbines return,—
When woods are full of piny smells
And this faint fragrance of the fern,—
And these red columbines return,—
When woods are full of piny smells
And this faint fragrance of the fern,—
“When the wild white-weed's bright surprise
Looks up from all the strawberried plain
Like thousands of astonished eyes,—
Dear child, you will be well again!”
Looks up from all the strawberried plain
Like thousands of astonished eyes,—
Dear child, you will be well again!”
Again the marvellous days are here;
Warm on my cheek the sunshine burns,
And fledged birds chirp, and far and near
Floats the strange sweetness of the ferns.
Warm on my cheek the sunshine burns,
And fledged birds chirp, and far and near
Floats the strange sweetness of the ferns.
But now these ways I walk alone,
Tearless, companionless, and dumb,—
Or rest upon this wayside stone,
To wait for one who does not come.
Tearless, companionless, and dumb,—
Or rest upon this wayside stone,
To wait for one who does not come.
Yet all is even as I foretold:
The summer shines on wave and wild,
The fern is fragrant as of old,
And you are well again, dear child!
The summer shines on wave and wild,
The fern is fragrant as of old,
And you are well again, dear child!
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |