 | The silver bridge and other poems |  |
123
ONE OF THREE.
“I am not quite alone,” she said—
“I have fair daughters three—
And one is dead, and one is wed,
And one remains with me.
“I have fair daughters three—
And one is dead, and one is wed,
And one remains with me.
“Awhile I watch, with tenderest care
Her growth from child to maid,
And plait her fair and shining hair—
A long and golden braid—
Her growth from child to maid,
And plait her fair and shining hair—
A long and golden braid—
“(Ah, sweet the bloom upon the grape
Before it leaves the vine!)
And deck and drape her dainty shape
With garments soft and fine—
Before it leaves the vine!)
And deck and drape her dainty shape
With garments soft and fine—
“And keep her sacred and apart,
Until some stranger's plea
With flattering art shall win her heart
Away from home and me.
Until some stranger's plea
With flattering art shall win her heart
Away from home and me.
124
“Some lover, in a summer's space,
Will woo and covet so
Her lissome grace and white-rose face,
That she will smile and go,—
Will woo and covet so
Her lissome grace and white-rose face,
That she will smile and go,—
“Leaving her childhood's home and me
Forgotten and bereft;
Then there will be, of all my three,
Only the dead one left.
Forgotten and bereft;
Then there will be, of all my three,
Only the dead one left.
“Why count the dead as lost? ah, me,
I keep my dead alone,
For only she, of all the three,
Will always be my own.
I keep my dead alone,
For only she, of all the three,
Will always be my own.
“She will not slight, at morn or eve,
The old love for the new;
The living leave our hearts to grieve—
The dead are always true!”
The old love for the new;
The living leave our hearts to grieve—
The dead are always true!”
| The silver bridge and other poems | |