XV
Do you recall the day when first we met?
In The Cathedral ’twas. The service o’er
Friends introduced us, passed, and said no more,
And we were left alone, strangers as yet.
A sad monastic gloom on you was set.
I sensed your thirst for life, more life, yet more—
And I, too, was athirst because I wore
The slave’s badge that so sharply helps to whet.
I went not home. I loathed the narrow streets.
I longed for country lanes, deep peace of air.
I left the black-roofed city, hastened where
I saw the hills. Upon them—O! so sweet—
Thick-banked stood trees like pink mist in the sun,
Aloud I cried:—Thank God! The Winter’s done!