 | Song in September |  |
103
THE BALANCE
Once I was a woodlad
A million years ago;
And once you were a woodgirl
A million years ago.
Though Memory wearies to unwind
The darkling story from her mind,
The words are few and stiff and slow,
Because of trances in the grave.
But yet she whispers, it was well
(Very well—ah, very well!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
A million years ago;
And once you were a woodgirl
A million years ago.
Though Memory wearies to unwind
The darkling story from her mind,
The words are few and stiff and slow,
Because of trances in the grave.
But yet she whispers, it was well
(Very well—ah, very well!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
Dreaming in the woodland,
I taste the Long Ago—
The berries and the honey
A million years ago.
The air is quivering while you grace
With scented grass our resting-place;
And knowing naught, I seem to know
The bird I snared to bring a smile
Upon our boy's enchanting face
(Our little son's delicious face!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
I taste the Long Ago—
The berries and the honey
A million years ago.
104
With scented grass our resting-place;
And knowing naught, I seem to know
The bird I snared to bring a smile
Upon our boy's enchanting face
(Our little son's delicious face!)
When I was but a woodlad,
And you were but a woodgirl,
A million years ago.
Dimly in the woodland
There come from Long Ago
The shadows of my blisses
A million years ago:
Beneath a starry coverlet
True love against my heart is set
In flow of joy, and overflow
Too lovely not to have its price.
To-day we pay with lashes wet
(Would God that only mine were wet!)
For what we held as woodlad
(Remember, Love!) and woodgirl
A million years ago.
There come from Long Ago
The shadows of my blisses
A million years ago:
Beneath a starry coverlet
True love against my heart is set
In flow of joy, and overflow
Too lovely not to have its price.
To-day we pay with lashes wet
(Would God that only mine were wet!)
For what we held as woodlad
(Remember, Love!) and woodgirl
A million years ago.
| Song in September | |