Page:The New Penelope.djvu/314

308 Gather me back as thou dost pale and fade;

Yet in my heart I make

A chamber for thy sake,

And keep thy picture in warm color laid:—

Thy memory, happy day,

Thou can'st not take away.

HE AND SHE.

Under the pines sat a young man and maiden,

"Love," said he; "life is sweet, think'st thou not so?"

Sweet were her eyes, full of pictures of Aidenn,—

"Life?" said she; "love is sweet; no more I know."

Into the wide world the maid and her lover

Wandered by pathways that sundered them far;

From pine-groves to palm-groves, he flitted a rover,

She tended his roses, and watched for his star.

Oft he said softly, while melting eyes glistened,

"Sweet is my life, love, with you ever near:"

Morning and evening she waited and listened

For a voice and a foot-step that never came near.

Fainting at last, on her threshold she found him:

"Life is but ashes, and bitter," he sighed.

She, with her tender arms folded around him,

Whispered—"But love is still sweet;" and so died.

O WILD NOVEMBER WIND.

O wild November wind, blow back to me

The withered leaves, that drift adown the past;

Waft me some murmur of the summer sea,

On which youth's fairy fleet of dreams was cast;