Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TWO RINGS, by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TWO RINGS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: She stood by the western window
Last Line: My tale of life is told.
Subject(s): Forget-me-nots


SHE stood by the western window,
In the midsummer twilight fair;
And the sunset breeze leaped from the trees
To lift her heavy hair.

Loving and lingering that good-night,
Which again and again was said,
As ever a fresh excuse was found
To 'put off going to bed.'

She took a ring from the table,
Blue, with a diamond eye;
A forget-me-not that would never fade
'Neath any wintry sky.

She placed it on her little hand,
And danced with sudden glee;
'Look at my ring, my pretty ring!
It is mine just now, you see!'

She laughed her merry ringing laugh,
I answered with a sigh,
Strange echo to my darling's mirth,
Though scarcely knowing why.

Her childish beauty touched my heart,
And rose to a vision fair
Of far-off days, when another ring
That little hand might wear.

And mine—it might be pulseless then
Under the churchyard tree;
So I drew her gently to my side,
And took her on my knee.

'It shall be yours, my darling,'
I said; 'but not to-day;
It shall be yours, my darling,
When I am gone away.'

She glanced up quickly in my face,
Not sure that she heard aright;
And the shadow that fell in the sweet brown eyes
Was sweeter than any light.

Then she bent her head and kissed the ring,
With a kiss both grave and long;
Hardly the kiss of a little child,
So fervent and so strong.

And hardly the tones of a little child,
That spoke so earnestly,—
'Yes; I will always wear it,
Mine it shall always be.

'But oh!' (and the eyes, love-brightened,
Shone with a sudden tear),
'I hope I shall never wear it,
Never, oh never, dear!'

Five summers smoothly passed away,
And the sixth was drawing nigh,
While herald glory woke the earth,
And filled the dazzling sky.

An April morning, radiant
With June-like gleam and glow,
Arose as fair as if the world
No shade of grief could know.

A tiny packet came for me,
With many a dark-edged fold,
And safe within it lay a ring,—
A little ring of gold.

Oh, well I knew its carving quaint
Of old ancestral days;
Last seen upon a waving hand
In slanting autumn rays.

O fair young hand, that waved good-bye
With passing grace and glee!
We knew not that it was farewell,—
The last farewell for me.

The sweet bright spring that touched the earth
With all-renewing might,
For her eternal beauty brought,
Eternal life and light.

All through the solemn Passion week
She lay so still and sweet,
A carven lily, white and pure,
For God's own temple meet;—

Until the day when Jesus died,
The Saviour whom she knew,
The Shepherd whom she followed home
The shadowy portal through.

And when the evening gently closed
That sad and sacred day,
They left the last kiss on her brow,
And took the ring away.

Two rings are always on my hand,
The azure and the gold,
And they shall gleam together till
My tale of life is told.





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