In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour, When in the firelight steadily aglow, Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower That eve was left to us: and hushed we sat As lovers to whom Time is whispering. From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing: The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay With us, and of it was our talk. 'Ah, yes! Love dies!' I said: I never thought it less. She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. Then when the fire domed blackening, I found Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift: -- Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAITH AND DESPONDENCY by EMILY JANE BRONTE OUR SUSSEX DOWNS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE SLAVE MOTHER by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER ONCE I PASS'D THROUGH A POPULOUS CITY by WALT WHITMAN TO WALTER LIONEL DE ROTHSCHILD ON HIS BAR-MITZVAH by LOUIS BARNETT ABRAHAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 59. AL-MUBDI by EDWIN ARNOLD TO --, WITH ARTHUR AND ALBINA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 21 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |