ON A SUMMER SHORE.
Long years have gone, and yet it seems
But scarce an hour ago,
I lay upon a moss-grown rock,
And watched the ebb and flow
Of waters, where cool shades above
Glassed in cool depths below.
You stood beside me sweet and fair,
A basket on your arm,
Red-heaped with luscious fruit we’d picked
Down at the old shore farm;
You stood and in the shore-wood made
A picture glad and warm.
Like heaving pearl the blue bay rocked
Against its limestone wall,
Far off in reeling dreams of blue
The heavens seemed to fall
About the world, and there you stood,
Unconscious, queen of all.
From far-off fields the low of kine,
Soft bird-notes, airy streams,
That stole in here, far, broken notes
Of all the day’s hushed dreams;
And you, one slender shaft of light,
In all the world’s wide gleams.
We spoke no love, for I was shy,
And you were shyer then;
Mine was a boy’s faint heart, and yours
Still outside of love’s ken;
But such sweet moments are full rare
In barren years of men.
And often when the heart is worn
And life grows sorrow-wise,
I dream again a blue, north bay,
A gleam of summer skies;
And by my side a young girl stands
With heaven in her eyes.
You are a dream, a face, a wraith,
You drift across my pain,
I lock you in my sacred past
Where all love’s ghosts remain;
But life hath nought for me so sweet
As you can bring again.