 | Lays and Legends |  |
179
THE FERRY
Draw close the curtains, and shut out
The spring's green glow and glitter;
The resurrection-life of spring
To me brings no fresh blossoming;
I'm wearied of the flowers about—
The London sparrows' twitter.
The spring's green glow and glitter;
The resurrection-life of spring
To me brings no fresh blossoming;
I'm wearied of the flowers about—
The London sparrows' twitter.
If I could dream—if I could see
Once more the slow smooth river,
The narrow path she used to tread,
The sunlight on her little head,
The white fire of the hawthorn tree—
But I shall see them never.
Once more the slow smooth river,
The narrow path she used to tread,
The sunlight on her little head,
The white fire of the hawthorn tree—
But I shall see them never.
Only the boat in dreams I steer
Among the tufted rushes,
I see her white gown through the grass,
That thrills with love to feel her pass;
Only in dreams again I hear
Those unforgotten thrushes.
Among the tufted rushes,
I see her white gown through the grass,
That thrills with love to feel her pass;
Only in dreams again I hear
Those unforgotten thrushes.
182
Sometimes in dreams I see her stand,
Her hand held out, and making
The sweet unreal so vivid seem,
I only know it is a dream
When I reach out to take her hand,
And find no hand for taking.
Her hand held out, and making
The sweet unreal so vivid seem,
I only know it is a dream
When I reach out to take her hand,
And find no hand for taking.
So once she stood; and I—too weak
To dare to say, ‘I love her’—
I dropped her hand, and took the oar
And rowed her to the farther shore;
I had my chance, and did not speak,
And chances now are over.
To dare to say, ‘I love her’—
I dropped her hand, and took the oar
And rowed her to the farther shore;
I had my chance, and did not speak,
And chances now are over.
How dark the room has grown!—yet no,
The sky is blue above me;
This is the boat—the hawthorn tree
Is showering blossoms down on me;
And she is here as long ago,
And she has learned to love me!
The sky is blue above me;
This is the boat—the hawthorn tree
Is showering blossoms down on me;
And she is here as long ago,
And she has learned to love me!
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