  ALL light and love, and golden grace, One full glad day, one summer day Goes ever with me on my way, And to no other yields a place. Do you remember Marguerite, Ah! faithful one, I need not ask, Since to forget is such a task, My strength fails toiling at it, sweet. We climbed the path among the hills, And laughed to see the wild-birds go All startled, flying to and fro Afraid of great and unknown ills. The wind laughed with us, and grew warm With breath of leaf, and stalk, and flower, No space of that delicious hour But held a fresh and subtle charm. Till, by-and-by, we stood and knew Ourselves upon the height alone, For us the blue sky smiled and shone, The great world only held us two. So fair, so cold—it could not be! Thou wert so proud, my Marguerite, Thou wert so proud, and O, so sweet I scarce could look at all on thee. Till in me grew a madness born Of the wind blowing from the south, I bent and kissed thee on the mouth, The ripe, red mouth—the bow of scorn. No scorn was on it then, my sweet, But tenderness beyond compare, Thy white soul laid its secret bare, Thy love was mine—mine—Marguerite! I whispered foolish things and fond, O bliss, for which I vainly yearned! Not, not for me, the truth I learned, Thine hand had signed stern duty’s bond. It was the end, we did not say The lover’s lingering good-bye, Only the day’s glad soul did die, And earth and heaven alike were grey. Did I forget? is mine a heart, One apt to yield up all its store? I loved thee ever, more and more Through all the years we dwelt apart To her I gave affection mild, As to a pretty winning child Who sought to cheer me with her grace. With pretty tasks she filled each day, Walked in my home with gentle pride, Called me a dreamer, oft would chide My thoughts for soaring far away. Her robes swept softly to her feet, Her hair fell down a golden fleece, Yet, when mine arm embraced Bernice, My soul embraced thee, Marguerite. We cannot change, we cannot pass To other things until we die; Who knows, the old love may not lie Within the grave, beneath the grass? Perhaps ’twas wrong, but this I know My longing I could never still, For love was stronger than my will, And mem’ry would not let thee go. I know where one long silky braid Fell down upon thy snowy neck, And how the blushes came to deck, And where the cunning dimples laid. Each of thy little tricks of speech Hath kept its echo all the while, Thy laughter growing from a smile Which sadness oft would chase and reach. And now we stand alone again, With naught to keep us far apart; Come to thy home within my heart, And there forget all loss and pain. Come, with that glow upon thy face We will go back a dozen years, Back past the graves, back through the tears, To that cold day of youth and grace. And there take up the golden store Of life and love so weighty grown— I hold thy heart against mine own, And thus will hold forever more. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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