"Absence makes the heart grow fonder"
One who knew has wisely said,
Since it gives us time to ponder
Over love, though living, dead!
As we will, the sweet face haunts us
And the voice we love is heard,
Though the accent pains and taunts…
When once the mountain stream has mingled with the sea.
Think you it can again a mountain stream 'er be?
Does it not take the grander and more awful form
Of the blue waters, where abides the king of storm?
So, lives that once have mingled in…
In token of the love you gave,
The faith, the trust, reposed in me,
When our young hearts were glad and free,
I plant these flowers upon your grave! The world is far too poor to give
A value like it took away;
I nevermore a joyous day,
Since…
Across my path a sunbeam gently lies;
I know not whence it came - I think I know,
But, as I watch its glories come and go
It fades away! Whither then? Into the skies? I seek to follow it, with blinking eyes,
Wh[?]e things immortal [?] and…
What if we never meet again,
Except as strangers meet?
Can we forget the past, - the pain, The pleasures, sunshine and the rain,
The bitter and the sweet?
Perhaps. And, yet, I think not so.
The sacred past is ours;
And come what may, where'er…
And thou art eight years old to-day?
How swiftly pass the years away!
Thy life has been a happy dream,
As bright as any bright sunbeam.
And may each birthday bring to thee
The gladness thou hast brought to me.
May length of years be thine to…
I know not why, but it is true - it may,
In some way, be because he was a child
Of the fierce sun 'neath which I wept and smiled -
I love the dark browed Poe. His too short day
Was lived in dreams, in dreams that him beguiled.
When not along his…
I know not how the shadow of a thought
Might fall across a poet's dreamful way;
But in such brains strange things
Are often by the vagrant fancy caught
And thrown aside, as mimics in a play,
Vexing the Harpist's strings.
Sweet moments live though they be dead; And love-words glow that we have said; The pulse thrills now, as in the hour When love first dwelt in its own bower And bowed a slave to its mad power!
So what care I
For th' inky sky?
The past is mine, -…
One day, 'twas long ago,
I met a maiden, far to see,
A maiden fair and dear to me;
But that was long ago. She was so fair, I know;
How fair she was I cannot say,
But fairer than a morn of May:
But that was long ago. And we did vow, I…
