- AH, love, do you remember the trysting-place of yore,
- Where the willow twined its branches with the tall old
- sycamore,
- And bent its long and pendant boughs in graceful curves,
- to meet
- The little stream which rippled o'er the pebbles at its
- feet?
- Do you think upon our meetings in the sunset's golden
- glow,
- When we lingered on till nightfall, ever, ever loth to
- go,
- And your voice grew strangely soft and sweet, while
- your hand infolded mine,
- And the beating of my heart kept time to each fond
- word of thine?
- Fond words! Ah, would you breathe them now as on
- those moonlight eves,
- When the night wind danced upon the stream and
- rustled mid the leaves,
- And, lifting up my floating hair, breathed coolness on
- the brow,
- To which those burning words had called a flush of
- deeper glow?
- Do you treasure still the name you carved upon that
- willow tree?
- Have you kept the vow of endless faith you pledged
- thereon to me?
- The tree still holds it in its heart—has thine remained
- as true?
- Is there no other name on earth that's dearer far to you?
- Do you love them yet, the stories old you used to read
- me there—
- Of stern old lords and brave young knights, and ladies
- bright and fair;
- While, at each tale of happy love, your dark eyes seeking
- mine,
- Would read therein a mute reply to each fond thought
- of thine?
- Say, have you quite forgotten the songs I sang to you,
- How fickle man is wont to rove, while woman, ever
- true,
- Still faithful to her early love, would seek no other
- shrine,
- And you vowed that you could never bow to other
- eyes than mine?
- Are there no soft remembrances which quiet evening
- brings,
- Of fingers which once sported through your dark hair's
- glossy rings,
- And long brown curls which swept your cheek while a
- young head bent low,
- To list to whispered words which called new flushes to
- its brow?
- This thick, dark curl of silken hair I treasure even
- now;
- Its glossy wreath once fell and rose upon your youthful
- brow.
- Do you still keep the chestnut curl which one clear eve
- you shred
- From midst the many wavy rings which clustered
- round my head?
- Alas! alas! you treasure not these relics of the past!
- Yours, the light love of boyish youth, was never meant
- to last.
- I laid a woman's heart of wealth and feeling on thy
- shrine,
- But manhood's deep, devoted love was never, never
- mine.
- My youthful bloom will pass away ere you to manhood
- rise,
- And you will seek your spirit's light in younger, brighter
- eyes.
- I only, turning to the past, will mourn youth's vanished
- dream;
- With you 'twas but a passing joy, a bubble on the
- stream.
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