Do you remember how I laughed at you In the Beaulieu woods, and how I made my peace? It was your thirtieth birthday, and you threw Stones like a school-girl at the chestnut trees. The heavens were light above us and the breeze. Your Corydon and all the merry crew Had wandered to a distance, busier bees Than we, who cared not where the hazels grew. We were alone at last. I had been teasing You with the burden of years left behind. You were too fair to find my wit displeasing, And I too tender to be less than kind. Your pebbles struck me. "Wretch," I cried. The word Entered our hearts that instant like a sword. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: BOMBER IN LONDON by RUDYARD KIPLING THE MEANING OF PRAYER by JAMES MONTGOMERY MY MOTHER by WILLIAM BELL SCOTT MAUD MULLER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER AN ELECTIVE COURSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HIS WORST ENEMY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |