All day the spell of that dear play has lain Upon me; and my thoughts, unceasingly, Dream round its various happenings and round thee, Who didst so fascinate my heart and brain. I see thee standing now as thou didst stand Last night upon the stage; thy high, sweet face Uplifted to thy lover's, and the grace Of thy young figure, circled by his hand, Gowned in deep red, which seemed sad with thy sorrow: And round the gown, and o'er the red, there swept A veil of black, whose gathered meshes crept Up to thy curving throat, and there did borrow The clasp of one white hand: while, girlishly-fair; Waved, over all, thy yellow English hair. |