Poems by Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] :: :: University of Virginia Library

As I stand upon the pathway where I saw you standing last,
I look vainly for your footprints, for so many more have pass'd;
They have press'd upon those dear ones, and have trodden them away,
And these others, that came after, will be trodden out as they.
Then I think “Life is a pathway, and the footprints are the years,
Where our sorrows mock our laughter, and our smiles efface our tears,
As with living, so with loving, changing figures come and go,
Sweeping out each other's footmarks with their flittings to and fro.”
Ah, my darling, then I wonder if at sunset, when you gaze
O'er the country you have travell'd, with its sad and pleasant ways,

Will you mark where fell my footsteps on your pathway for a space,
'Ere the coming feet of others shall have swept away their trace?
Can I think it? dare I hope it? when together hand in hand,
For a little while we journey'd,—when our shadows on the sand
Seem'd as one for but one moment, and alas! then two again,
Dare I hope that any record of my passing will remain?
Or, when in your mem'ry's mirror, all your vanish'd loves shall pass,
Will my shadow linger longer than the others in the glass?
With a look half sad, half mocking,—half in smiles and half in tears,
Will my lips waft something to you like the kiss of bygone years?
When I vanish, who will follow? Will you loose or hold her fast?
Will she linger as I linger'd? Will she pass as others pass'd?

In the dim uncertain future, who shall come you may not guess,
She may sweep me from your mem'ry with the trailing of her dress;
You may loose me in her beauty, and forget me in her smile,
And her breath may fade the picture that you cherish'd for a while.
Hast'ning past those days of sunshine, when our lives seem'd merged in one,
From the sunshine you may hurry to the presence of the sun,
For it may be that the moments were but wasted loving me,
Or only the foreshadowing of happier ones to be!
But ah! if they love more fondly (future love or future wife),
If my living was not loving—if my loving was not Life,
Oh, then drive my trembling spirit from the threshold of your heart,
Let me hear you taunt and mock me as I shudder and depart!
Let me see the eyes I worshipp'd on another shed their beams,

And then let me fade forgotten to the chilly land of dreams!

Ah, I fain would drop the curtain on my wand'ring thoughts that range,
For here nothing can be certain but the certainty of change;
Dare we promise, or un-promise, to remember or forget,
Knowing all the changeling changes that the Future may beget?
But the Present is our own still, and I hug and hold it fast,
As the sailor in a tempest fastens wildly to the mast;
For I know not, if I loose it, what my future fate may be;
Are the waters sweet or bitter of that dim unfathom'd sea?
Till our “Never” is “For ever,” till “To-morrow” is “To-day,”
Till all Future things are Present, till our Present fades away;
Dare we plan or dare we promise? All the voices of my mind

Seem to say, “Beware and tremble, lest to-morrow be not kind;
Lest your Heaven be not Heaven—lest your Idol should depart;”
But “I love you, oh! I love you!” say the voices of my heart.
Oh, forsake me, and forget me, oh, be cruel and unkind;
I forget it—I forgive it! round your life my love is twined;
You have made my world a Heaven, you have fill'd my soul with bliss,
And the thirst of all my being is forgotten in your kiss!

Ah, my darling, on the pathway of the life that I have trod,
Deeply printed are your footsteps, like the footsteps of a god;
Treading out all fainter traces—seal'd for ever in the sand,
Marking which were pleasant places in that unforgotten land!
And your shadow, not as others, will it fade away and pass?

I shall stretch my arms towards it when I see it in the glass;
I shall cling to it and kiss it,—I shall whisper to it, “Stay!”
For your memory shall be my love, when love has pass'd away!
Oh, then love me for a little, for I live but for your smile!
Betwixt coming loves and going, let me linger for a while!
If you leave me can I blame you? Shall I hunger for you less?
No forsaking makes forgetting! In my haunted loneliness
I shall bow before the Power that reclaims what has been given,
And live upon his memory who made the earth seem Heaven!