  Long years have gone, and yet it seems But scarce an hour ago, I lay upon a moss-grown rock, And watched the ebb and flow Of waters, where cool shades above Glassed in cool depths below. You stood beside me sweet and fair, A basket on your arm, Red-heaped with luscious fruit we’d picked Down at the old shore farm; You stood and in the shore-wood made A picture glad and warm. Like heaving pearl the blue bay rocked Against its limestone wall, Far off in reeling dreams of blue The heavens seemed to fall About the world, and there you stood, Unconscious, queen of all. From far-off fields the low of kine, Soft bird-notes, airy streams, That stole in here, far, broken notes Of all the day’s hushed dreams; And you, one slender shaft of light, In all the world’s wide gleams. We spoke no love, for I was shy, And you were shyer then; Mine was a boy’s faint heart, and yours Still outside of love’s ken; And often when the heart is worn And life grows sorrow-wise, I dream again a blue, north bay, A gleam of summer skies; And by my side a young girl stands With heaven in her eyes. You are a dream, a face, a wraith, You drift across my pain, I lock you in my sacred past Where all love’s ghosts remain; But life hath nought for me so sweet As you can bring again. |
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