For mine took on so fair a form
It charmed away all care and sadness,
It flashed out beams so strong and warm,
Away went everything but gladness.
It looked from tender eyes of brown,
And spake my greatest fault forgiven,
In wondrous sweetness there it shone—
In truest eyes outside of heaven.
I felt it in the hand I clasped,
So small, and yet so strong to guide me
Through waters deep, or breakers past,
Or aught that threatened to betide me.
With ripe red lips it spake to me,
O voice, that always soothes and blesses!
While I, Philistine, felt to pray
That I might silence it with kisses.
I’ve lost all this by my mistake,
I walked, you see, not circumspectly,
I pressed a claim for love’s sweet sake,
And friendship took to flight directly.
And I am left to think with pain
How folly caused my loss and sorrow,
Had I my friendship back again
I’d do the very same to-morrow.
The Grave
O THE grave is a quiet place, my dear,
So still and so quiet by night and by day,
Reached by no sound either joyous or drear,
But keeping its silence alway, alway.
O the grave is a restful place, my dear,
Unvext by the weightiest loss or gain,
All the undone work of the speeding year
May beat at its portals in vain, in vain.