I make answer, “Oh, but Harry
Is not like most men who marry.
“Fate has offered me a prize,
Life with love means Paradise.
“Life without it is not worth
All the foolish joys of earth.”
So, in spite of all they say,
I shall name the wedding day.
AN AFTERNOON
I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon
Of a perfect day—though it was not June;
The lilt of winds, and the droning tune
That a busy city was humming.
And a bronze-brown head, and lips like wine
Leaning out through the window-vine
A-list for steps that were maybe mine—
Eager steps that were coming.
I can see it all, as a dreamer may—
The tender smile on your lips that day,
And the glow on your cheek as we rode away
Into the golden weather.
And a love-light shone in your eyes of brown—
I swear there did!—as we drove down
The crowded avenue out of the town,
Through shadowy lanes, together:
Drove out into the sunset-skies
That glowed with wonderful crimson dyes;
And with soul and spirit, and heart and eyes,
We silently drank their splendour.