Page:Last Poems.djvu/105

 Still, thou art happy now, and glad thine eyes, When, as the lilac evening gains the sky, I lay thee, 'twixt thine own soft hair and me, Kissing thy senses into soft delight. Ruffling the petals of my half-closed rose With tender touches, and perpetual care That no wild moment of mine own delight Deep in the flower's heart,—should set the fruit.

Ah, in the days to come, it well may be, When thou shalt see thy beauty stained and torn By the harsh sequel of some future love, Thy thoughts shall stray to thy first lover's grave, And thou shalt murmur, "Ay, but that was love. They were most wrong who said he did me wrong. Only I was too young to understand." 93