Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/119

Rh In dreams of me were lifted to the skies,

Where, by our far sea-home, the sunlight dies;

If thou didst stand, alone,

Watching the day pass slowly, slow, as here,

But closer and more dear,

Beyond the meadow and the long, familiar line

Of blackening pine;

When lo! that second smile;—dear heart, it was thine own.

"AFTER SORROW'S NIGHT"