FOUR SONGS
I. THE PEASANT GIRL
Beyond the sea he goes, beyond the sea.
Does he look back to Arcady and me?
And yet, how could it be?
How should he mate with such a maid as I?
Ah, let him go—good-by!
Beyond my sight he goes, beyond my sight.
Does he look back and say, “My sweet, good-night”?
And yet, is love so light?
How should he know the pain I could not tell?
Ah, let him go—farewell!
Beyond my prayer he goes, beyond my prayer.
Does he look back from out the great world there?
And yet, how could I dare?
How should he know if love be wrong or right?
Ah, let him go—good-night!
II. AN INTERLUDE
I was within her heart that one short year
(But that is long ago and far away!).
Her soul’s sweet spring,
The while she waited for that greater thing,
Should blow to blossom all the buds of May.
I was within her heart that one short year
(But that is hidden, lost, and gone away!).
She was not mine,
But ere the glorious harvest moon could shine
There beamed on me the crescent moon of May.
I was within her heart that one short year
(But that has faded faint and soft away!).
Though the year’s night
Draws on, and all about the snow falls white,
Across my heart there blows a breath of May.
III. HEART’S SEASONS
When Love went holidaying
Among the autumn leaves,
They bloomed in sweet betraying,
The purple clouds, soft straying,
Held daylight back, delaying
To gild the glowing sheaves—
When Love went holidaying
Among the autumn leaves.
When Grief came on a-sighing
Behind the flowers of spring,
They withered to their dying,
The homing birds, slow flying,
Sang wintry songs, denying
The joy that June should bring—
When Grief came on a-sighing
Behind the flowers of spring.
IV. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
“Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
Ah me! to go, to leave it all and go!
To toss my life as east wind tosses spray,
To clean forget that this land ever lay
Within my sight, that wearied of it so!
“Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
Could he have felt my heart leap up and sing!
I knew the primrose path my feet would stray,
I guessed the lovely glow of the new day
That lies beyond the mountain’s purple wing.
“Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
He took my heart and wandered on alone;
Doubtless some other strolls with him to-day,
A lightsome comrade on his happy way,
That way across the hills I have not known!