London, December 1892
CONTENTS
A SPRAY OF LILAC
Pale cluster, thy faint perfume comes to me
Laden with memories of long ago,
And all the present dims as o’er my soul
The waves of tender recollection flow.
With Spring’s young blood again my veins are thrilled,
My hands are stretched to meet the coming years,
The world holds all the glory that it held
Ere yet mine eyes had looked on it thro’ tears.
With deftest fingers fancy weaves once more
Her fairy fabrics; vast horizons glow
With fires of promise, for behind their veils
They hid rich treasures in that long-ago.
The subtle sweetness of the vanished days,
The rapture of the old ecstatic bliss,
All, all are mine, as once again I cling
To ripe warm lips in love’s first passion-kiss.
The long delicious Summer slowly weaves
For Autumn’s brows a crown of living gold;
Sad Winter follows with his winding-sheet,
For all the glory has grown grey and old.