BUT don't you know it, my dear, Don't you know it, That this day of the year (What rainbow-rays embow it!) We met, strangers confessed, But parted - blest? Though at this query, my dear, There in your frame Unmoved you still appear, You must be thinking the same, But keep that look demure Just to allure. And now at length a trace I surely vision Upon that wistful face Of old-time recognition, Smiling forth, 'Yes, as you say, It is the day.' For this one phase of you Now left on earth This great date must endue With pulsings of rebirth? - I see them vitalize Those two deep eyes! But if this face I con Does not declare Consciousness living on Still in it, little I care To live myself, my dear, Lone-labouring here! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BIRCH STREAM by ANNA BOYNTON AVERILL MY YOUTH by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES WILLIE WINKIE by WILLIAM MILLER OUR BROTHER'S KEEPER by W. H. ANDERSON THE VALLEY OF FERN: PART 1 by BERNARD BARTON THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 104. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |