 | The White Pilgrim and Other Poems |  |
107
EN PASSANT.
An April sun, a silver wave
That laughs and breaks upon the shore—
Such span to us Dame Fortune gave,
One week—no more!
That laughs and breaks upon the shore—
Such span to us Dame Fortune gave,
One week—no more!
Two barques upon the summer-foam,
That meet and greet and part at sea—
One outward bound, and one for home:
Like them were we.
That meet and greet and part at sea—
One outward bound, and one for home:
Like them were we.
A flower that blossoms in a day,
And dies even there where it was born—
Such was our story, you may say
To-morrow morn.
And dies even there where it was born—
Such was our story, you may say
To-morrow morn.
The how, and when, that first we spoke,
I do not, and I would not, know;
Dream-like the mutual fancy woke,
And perished so.
I do not, and I would not, know;
Dream-like the mutual fancy woke,
And perished so.
108
Yet sometimes, in this world of ours,
The wave will drop a waif behind,
The dream will leave a thought, the flowers
A scent in mind.
The wave will drop a waif behind,
The dream will leave a thought, the flowers
A scent in mind.
So may of mine abide with you,
As ever shall of yours with me,
A word, a smile, a look or two,
A memory.
As ever shall of yours with me,
A word, a smile, a look or two,
A memory.
| The White Pilgrim and Other Poems | |