Page:The Garden of Years.djvu/29

 We spoke of eloquently empty things;

Of younger days that were before we met,

The trivial acts to which the memory clings,

And in familiar spots unbidden brings

To mind, when graver matters we forget.

The sacred secret lay unspoken, yet

Hovered, half-veiled, between our conscious eyes,

Touched with an indefinable regret

For that swift moment of our love’s surprise—

Like a waked bird, poised upon ready wings.

I cannot tell how first we came to dwell

In short, shy words upon this closer theme,

Or how it was each understood so well

There was no need in clearer speech to tell

The phases of our duplicated dream.

In that sweet intimacy, it would seem

Our endless love had never been begun:

Like the twin branches of a tranquil stream

Our two hearts ran together and were one,

With no trite word to mar the perfect spell!