Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/128

 She faded, but I saw it not—
 * How could I, when the love-plumed wings

That sped the swift hours dimmed my eyes,
 * And closed my ears to passing things?

I knew her love was fadeless—knew
 * That mine could die not, nor could deem

That love was life's alone, and life
 * A dream, and love an inner dream.

She faded, and it seemed her life
 * Passed to the blossom-burthened sprays;

The orchid seemed instinct with sense,
 * The lily tried to breathe and gaze.

She died when summer's failing light
 * Slid into autumn's golden gloom,

And when my hopes like faded leaves
 * Sank dead, they laid her in the tomb.

And now, when springtime wakes the world,
 * I watch each slowly opening flower

That, from the silence where she dwells,
 * Comes with fresh tidings to her bower.

W. C. Scully.