Elizabethan days . n,Glimmering through the foggy pallClear to the great, gloomy street lamp with a weary look,A gutter gurgling like a brook,And high above unsteady at this hourArc lights are blinking by the Tower;A mellow odor from the dripping trees,A distant church bell tolls eternities,And all deserted is the dismal are alone, our isolation is complete;We pause to gaze down on the shining cut;Theres something I would tell you—butSaid you, but Ill say nothing thought of something too, yet howTo say it had perplexed my mindAnd to the future I was blind—A pusher e
Elizabethan days . n,Glimmering through the foggy pallClear to the great, gloomy street lamp with a weary look,A gutter gurgling like a brook,And high above unsteady at this hourArc lights are blinking by the Tower;A mellow odor from the dripping trees,A distant church bell tolls eternities,And all deserted is the dismal are alone, our isolation is complete;We pause to gaze down on the shining cut;Theres something I would tell you—butSaid you, but Ill say nothing thought of something too, yet howTo say it had perplexed my mindAnd to the future I was blind—A pusher engines wave of smokeOur midnight reverie passed along, both left unsaidThe words that in our souls we read, 3 .y> Each satisfied that we would meetFull many a time, and then repeatWith confidence that is not boldThe sweetest story ever left you at your steps, and nevermoreWas I to near that sacred door;But still I see you when in dreaming waysAnd live again Elizabethan 11, PASSING BY HE little country village where you live, At mid-day when the train came inAnd stopped, I gazed out through the open sash Across the fields and groves of linnWhich line the sauntering, shrunken stream; The trees were tinted by the early fallAnd had lost leaves enough to show a gleam Of the quiet main street and the old hotelNear where in some deep shaded bowerYour cottage stands—you were at this same hourUnmindful of my nearness, how my heart beat fastInspired by fond memories of the happy past—Perchance it be a shadow crossed your pathAs if cast by a bird in flight above the treesAt this same moment, and a thought of meVibrates your spirit, and has vanished instantly. The car-trucks creak, the train is moving onAlong the calm valley of the cloudless skies,But I had flashed a message forthThe message of the love that never dies!September 8, 1908. AT THE BRONX r\ Sis H, let me live again that winter day; ^ The little horse stood by the door impatiently
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidelizabethand, bookyear1912
