  MY love and I among the mountains strayed, When heaven and earth in summer heat were still, Aware anon that at our feet were laid, Within a sunny hollow of the hill, A long-haired shepherd lover and a maid. They saw nor heard us, who a space above, With hands clasped close as hers were clasped in his, Marked how the gentle golden sunlight strove To play about their leaf-crowned curls, and kiss Their burnished slender limbs, half-barÈd to his love. But grave or pensive seemed the boy to grow, For while upon the grass unfingered lay The slim twin-pipes, he ever watched with slow Dream-laden looks the ridge that far away Surmounts the sleeping midsummer with snow. These things we saw; moreover we could hear The girl’s soft voice of laughter, grown more bold With the utter noonday silence, sweet and clear: “Why dost thou think? By thinking one grows old. Wouldst thou for all the world be old, my dear?” Here my love turned to me, but her eyes told Her thought with smiles before she spoke a word; And being quick their meaning to behold, I could not chuse but echo what we heard: “Sweetheart, wouldst thou for all the world be old? J. B. B. Nichols. |
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