Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/127

Rh Not as a lover

At last if he part from me,

Tearing my heart from me,

Hurt beyond cure—

Calm and demure

Then must I hold me,

In myself fold me,

Lest he discover;

Showing no sign to him

By look of mine to him

What he has been to me—

How my heart turns to him,

Follows him, yearns to him,

Prays him to love me.

Pity me, lean to me,

Thou God above me!

THE RIVER INN

night was black and drear

Of the last day of the year.

Two guests to the river inn

Came, from the wide world's bound—

One with clangor and din,

The other without a sound.

Now hurry, servants and host!

Get the best that your cellars boast.

White be the sheets and fine,

And the fire on the hearthstone bright;

Pile the wood, and spare not the wine,

And call him at morning-light."