"Forever and a Day"

With hand on latch, a vision white

Lingered reluctant, and again
Half doubting if she did aright,
Soft as the dews that fell that night,
She said, "Auf wiedersehen !”

The lamp's clear gleam flits up the stair;
I linger in delicious pain;

Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air
To breathe in thought I scarcely dare,
Thinks she,—"Auf wiedersehen?"

'Tis thirteen years; once more I press
The turf that silences the lane;

I hear the rustle of her dress,
I smell the lilacs, and-ah, yes,
I hear,-"Auf wiedersehen!"

Sweet piece of bashful maiden art!

The English words had seemed too fain, But these they drew us heart to heart, Yet held us tenderly apart;

She said, "Auf wiedersehen!"

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James Russell Lowell [1819-1891]

"FOREVER AND A DAY"

I LITTLE know or care

If the blackbird on the bough
Is filling all the air

With his soft crescendo now;

For she is gone away,
And when she went she took
The springtime in her look,
The peachblow on her cheek,
The laughter from the brook,
The blue from out the May-
And what she calls a week
Is forever and a day!

It's little that I mind

How the blossoms, pink or white,
At every touch of wind

Fall a-trembling with delight;
For in the leafy lane,
Beneath the garden-boughs,
And through the silent house
One thing alone I seek.
Until she come again

The May is not the May,

And what she calls a week

Is forever and a day!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907]

OLD GARDENS

THE white rose tree that spent its musk
For lovers' sweeter praise,

The stately walks we sought at dusk,
Have missed thee many days.

Again, with once-familiar feet,
I tread the old parterre-
But, ah, its bloom is now less sweet
Than when thy face was there.

I hear the birds of evening call;
I take the wild perfume;
I pluck a rose-to let it fall

And perish in the gloom.

Arthur Upson [1877-1908]

DONALD

O WHITE, White, light moon, that sailest in the sky,
Look down upon the whirling world, for thou art up so high,
And tell me where my Donald is, who sailed across the sea,
And make a path of silver light to lead him back to me.

We Twain

O white, white, bright moon, thy cheek is coldly fair,

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A little cloud beside thee seems thy wildly floating hair; And if thou would'st not have me grow all white and cold

like thee,

Go, make a mighty tide to draw my Donald back to me.

O light, white, bright moon, that dost so fondly shine, There is not a lily in the world but hides its face from thine; I too shall go and hide my face close in the dust from thee, Unless with light and tide thou bring my Donald back to me. Henry Abbey [1842

WE TWAIN

Oн, earth and Heaven are far apart!

But what if they were one,

And neither you nor I, Sweetheart,
Had anyway misdone?

Then we like singing rivers fleet

That cannot choose but flow,

Among the flowers should meet and greet,
Should meet and mingle so,

Sweetheart,

That would be sweet, I know.

No need to swerve and drift apart,

Or any bliss resign!

Then I should all be yours, Sweetheart,

And

you would all be mine.

But ah, to rush, defiled and brown,

From thaw of smirchèd snow,

To spoil the corn, beat down and drown
The rath, red lilies low,-

Sweetheart,

I do not want you so!.

For you and I are far apart,

And never may we meet,

Till you are glad and grand, Sweetheart,

Till I am fair and sweet:

Till morning light has kissed us white
As highest Alpine snow.

Till both are brave and bright of sight,
Go wander high or low,

Sweetheart,

For God will have it so.

Oh, Heaven and earth are far apart!

If you are bond or free,

And if you climb or crawl, Sweetheart,

Can no way hinder me.

But see you come in lordly state,
With mountain winds a-glow,
When I by dazzling gate shall wait
To meet and love you so,
Sweetheart,-

That will be Heaven, I know.

Amanda T. Jones [1835

WITH THEE

IF I could know that after all

These heavy bonds have ceased to thrall,
We, whom in life the fates divide,
Should sweetly slumber side by side—
That one green spray would drop its dew
Softly alike above us two,

All would be well, for I should be
At last, dear loving heart, with thee!

How sweet to know this dust of ours,
Mingling, will feed the self-same flowers,—
The scent of leaves, the song-bird's tone,
At once across our rest be blown,—
One breadth of sun, one sheet of rain

Make green the grass above us twain!
Ah, sweet and strange, for I should be,
At last, dear tender heart, with thee!

But half the earth may intervene
Thy place of rest and mine between,-

Gossip

And leagues of land and wastes of waves
May stretch and toss between our graves—
Thy bed with summer light be warm
While snow-drifts heap, in wind and storm,
My pillow, whose one thorn will be,
Beloved, that I am not with thee!

But if there be a blissful sphere
Where homesick souls, divided here,
And wandering wide in useless quest,

Shall find their longed-for heaven of rest,—

If in that higher, happier birth

We meet the joy we missed on earth,

All will be well, for I shall be,

At last, dear loving heart, with thee!

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Elizabeth Akers [1832-1911]

SONG

SHE'S somewhere in the sunlight strong,
Her tears are in the falling rain,

She calls me in the wind's soft song,
And with the flowers she comes again.

Yon bird is but her messenger,

The moon is but her silver car;

Yea! sun and moon are sent by her,

And every wistful waiting star.

Richard Le Gallienne [1866

GOSSIP

We knew them friends; he held her glance,
Her hidden thought could understand;

Yet he's in England, she's in France,
For fear lest he might touch her hand.

And two who loved with soul and mind
Said calm goodby, with civil lies,
Lest they the common road might find,
And learn to love with lips and eyes.
Helen Huntington [18