IN a mazy, sunlit garden, Where was neither watch nor warden, But the butterflies and bees Rifling the laburnum-trees; Where lilies pale and purple phlox Bent above the bordering box, And clustering pinks and crimson roses Made fragrant even the orchard closes — There one blissful hour I strayed With the boy they said was laid Forever 'neath the yew-tree's shade — Harold, with his summers seven! The tower-clock was chiming eleven As I saw him down the stair, With his blue eyes, and chestnut hair Backward from his forehead blown By the wind, that made such moan When we lost him, ('twas a day In dreary March he went away) But that now, in glad surprise, Breathed a strain of Paradise. How I caught him to my heart! 'Darling! naught again shall part You and me, you and me!' Thrice he kissed me; then in glee, Down the winding path he sped, — So he was wont of old to play — I could see his shining head Bright the darkling boughs between, As if a sunbeam glanced that way; While I followed where he led, Followed still, through gold and green, By grove and walk, his dancing feet; And as he ran, now fairy-fleet, Now from some gloom emerging slow, Still beckoning, still eluding me, His cheek outvied the rose's glow, His voice, the robin's minstrelsy. And then, and then, — God pity me That still my lonely days glide on — I know not how, but he was gone! Unseen, had vanished utterly! Viewless as evening zephyrs pass That softly sway the meadow grass; Silent as April sunlight goes, When a black cloud, relentless, throws Its shadow over lawn and tree! And calling, flying where he fled, I passed the lilies, drooping, dead, And, breathless, gained the vacant stair; — The sun shone wan as winter moon; A chill wind blew the rose-tree bare, Strewing its blossoms o'er the stone; And he was gone, and I alone, As sharp the clock rang out for noon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THINGS ARE WHAT THEY SEEM by MARIANNE MOORE WHAT I LIVE FOR by GEORGE LINNAEUS BANKS THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 36. FEAR HAS CAST OUT LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TAKE YOUR CHOICE: AND PERHAPS GELETT BURGESS by BERTON BRALEY |