Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/136

 No—no! I can not hate you yet, While many a treasured amulet Of lang syne dares me to forgot!

I have your tiny gloves hard by; You gave them to me with a sigh— They’re torn and faded—so am I.

I banquet on them with my looks, I haunt the meadow—tangled brooks, And sift dried jasmins from my books.

And brooding o’er them wrath is felled; I only see the hands they held, Becking me ever back to Eld!

Yes—yes! I do forgive the Past; And though your stars be overcast, I’ll deem you loveliest to the last.

But I shall ride no more away, In kingly cavalier array, In midmost love—in midmost May!