  I The slanted storm tossed at their feet The frost-nipped autumn leaves; The park's high pines were caked with sleet, And ice-spears armed the eaves. They strolled adown the pillared pines, To part where wet and twisted vines About the gate-posts blew and beat. She watched him riding through the rain Along the river's misty shore, And turned with lips that laughed disdain: "To meet no more!" II 'Mid heavy roses weighed with dew The chirping crickets hid; I' the honeysuckle avenue Sang the green katydid. Soft southern stars smiled through the pines. Through stately windows, draped with vines, The drifting moonlight's silver blew. She stared upon a face, now dead, A soldier calm that wore; Despair sobbed on the lips that said, "To meet no more." |
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