One Word is too often Profaned.
The old, sweet spell is unforgot
That turns to June December; And tho' the world remembered not, Love, we would remember.
ONE WORD IS TOO OFTEN PROFANED.
NE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not ;
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow;
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
RIDING DOWN.
OH, did you see him riding down,
And riding down, while all the town
Came out to see, came out to see,
And all the bells rang mad with glee?
Oh, did you hear those bells ring out,
The bells ring out, the people shout,
And did you hear that cheer on cheer
That over all the bells rang clear?
And did you see the waving flags,
The fluttering flags, the tattered flags,
Red, white, and blue, shot through and through,
Baptized with battle's deadly dew?
And did you hear the drums' gay beat,
The drums' gay beat, the bugles sweet,
The cymbals' clash, the cannons' crash,
That rent the sky with sound and flash?
And did you see me waiting there,
Just waiting there and watching there,
One little lass, amid the mass
That pressed to see the hero pass?
And did you see him smiling down,
And smiling down, as riding down
With slowest pace, with stately grace,
He caught the vision of a face,-
My face uplifted, red and white,
Turned red and white with sheer delight,
To meet the eyes, the smiling eyes,
Out flashing in their swift surprise?
Oh, did you see how swift it came,
How swift it came, like sudden flame,
That smile to me, to only me,
The little lass who blushed to see?
And at the windows all along,
Oh, all along, a lovely throng
Of faces fair beyond compare,
Beamed out upon him riding there!
Each face was like a radiant gem,
A sparkling gem, and yet for them
No swift smile came, like sudden flame,
No arrowy glance took certain aim.
He turned away from all their grace,
From all that grace of perfect face,
He turned to me, to only me,
The little lass who blushed to see!
THE SKIES ARE STREWN WITH STARS.
THE skies are strewn with stars,
The streets are fresh with dew,
A thin moon drifts to westward,
The night is hushed and cheerful:
My thought is quick with you.
Near windows gleam and laugh,
And far away a train
Clanks glowing through the stillness :
A great content's in all things,
By the river old and gray,
The enchanted Long Ago
Murmured and smiled anew.
On the way to Kew,
March had the laugh of May,
The bare boughs looked aglow,
And old immortal words
Sang in my breast like birds,
Coming up from Richmond, As I used with you.
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