Once more upon the same old seat
In the same sunshiny weather,
The elm-trees’ shadows at their feet
And foliage move together.
The shadows shift upon the grass,
The dial point creeps on;
The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,
As then they passed and shone.
But now deep sleep is on my heart,
Deep sleep and perfect rest.
Hope’s flutterings now disturb no more
The quiet of my breast.
ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER
As swallows turning backward
When half-way o’er the sea,
At one word’s trumpet summons
They came again to me—
The hopes I had forgotten
Came back again to me.
I know not which to credit,
O lady of my heart!
Your eyes that bade me linger,
Your words that bade us part—
I know not which to credit,
My reason or my heart.
But be my hopes rewarded,
Or be they but in vain,
I have dreamed a golden vision,
I have gathered in the grain—
I have dreamed a golden vision,
I have not lived in vain.
DEDICATION
My first gift and my last, to you
I dedicate this fascicle of songs—
The only wealth I have:
Just as they are, to you.
I speak the truth in soberness, and say
I had rather bring a light to your clear eyes,
Had rather hear you praise
This bosomful of songs