 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
[III. Shadows hung dense on the burnished lake]
Shadows hung dense on the burnished lake
Where our boat was languidly sliding;
We heard in the forest the whip-poor-will wake,
And saw the red moon upgliding;
And each told not, for the other's sake,
The sorrow that each was hiding.
Where our boat was languidly sliding;
We heard in the forest the whip-poor-will wake,
226
And each told not, for the other's sake,
The sorrow that each was hiding.
We had wasted in passionate words and moods
The day that went down as our last;
We had loitered in leafy solitudes
With the phantoms of our past!
Forgetting the grief in store for us
And the fate that followed fast,
Such radiant robe as it wore for us
From the present we had cast!
And now that the darkness fell again
Where our feet on the lit sward wandered,
We thought of the birds that sang in vain
And the sunbeams idly squandered!
The day that went down as our last;
We had loitered in leafy solitudes
With the phantoms of our past!
Forgetting the grief in store for us
And the fate that followed fast,
Such radiant robe as it wore for us
From the present we had cast!
And now that the darkness fell again
Where our feet on the lit sward wandered,
We thought of the birds that sang in vain
And the sunbeams idly squandered!
Oh, better we did not speak—
That we looked at the shining shore,
At the clouded moon's far fiery streak,
At the dip of the glimmering oar!
Oh, better we did not seek
A voice for regret once more—
That we suffered, we silently bore!
I should not have pleaded one word
From your pale dear lips, or a sigh,
Had your soul gone then like a bird
From a rift in its prisoning bars!—
Ah, so thankfully watching you die,
Till your low voice was not heard
Nor your true heart longer stirred,
And the light of each fond eye
Had floated away to the stars!
That we looked at the shining shore,
At the clouded moon's far fiery streak,
At the dip of the glimmering oar!
Oh, better we did not seek
A voice for regret once more—
That we suffered, we silently bore!
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From your pale dear lips, or a sigh,
Had your soul gone then like a bird
From a rift in its prisoning bars!—
Ah, so thankfully watching you die,
Till your low voice was not heard
Nor your true heart longer stirred,
And the light of each fond eye
Had floated away to the stars!
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |