HOW well my heart remembers Beside these camp-fire embers The eyes that smiled so far away, -- The joy that was November's. Her voice to laughter moving, So merrily reproving, -- We wandered through the autumn woods, And neither thought of loving. The hills with light were glowing, The waves in joy were flowing, -- It was not to the clouded sun The day's delight was owing. Though through the brown leaves straying, Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; We knew not Love was with us there, No look nor tone betraying. How unbelief still misses The best of being's blisses! Our parting saw the first and last Of love's imagined kisses. Now 'mid these scenes the drearest I dream of her, the dearest, -- Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, So far, and yet the nearest. And Love, so gayly taunted, Who died, no welcome granted, Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, By whom my life is haunted. With bonds I may not sever, He binds my heart forever, And leads me where we murdered him, -- The Hill beside the River. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS EMPTY PURSE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER CRY WOE, WOE, AND LET THE GOOD PREVAIL, FR. AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS WE'LL GO NO MORE THE WOODLAND WAY by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY by ROBERT BURNS THE YOUNG DEAD by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT FRAGMENT OF AN EPISTLE TO THOMAS MOORE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON PRECIOUS STONES; AN INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY |