Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/63

Rh How noble, proud, and beautiful!" But she

Who knows him best: "How tender!" So thou art

The river of love to me!

—Heart of my heart,

Dear love and bride is it not so indeed?—

Among your treasures keep this new-pluckt reed.

XII—"MY SONGS ARE ALL OF THEE"

XIII—AFTER MANY DAYS

heart, I would that after many days,

When we are gone, true lovers in a book

Might find these faithful songs of ours. "O look!"

I hear him murmur while he straightway lays

His finger on the page, and she doth raise

Her eyes to his. Then, like the winter brook

From whose young limbs a sudden summer shook

The fetters, love flows on in sunny ways.