Once in your sight,
As May buds swell in the sun’s warm light,
So grew her soul,
Yielding itself to your sweet control.
Once if you spoke,
Echoing strains in her heart awoke,
Sending a thrill
All through its chambers sweet and still.
Once if you said,
“Sweet, with Love’s garland I crown your head,”
Ah! how the rose
Flooded her forehead’s pale repose!
Once if your lip
Dared the pure sweetness of hers to sip,
Softly and meek
Dark lashes drooped on a white rose cheek!
Once if your name
Some one but whispered, a sudden flame
Burned on her cheek,
Telling a story she would not speak!
You do but wait
At a sepulchre’s sealed gate!
Her love is dead,
Bound hand and foot in its narrow bed.
Why did it die?
Ask of your soul the reason why!
Question it well,
And surely the secret it will tell.
But if your heart
Ever again plays the lover’s part,
Let this truth be
Blent with the solemn mystery:
Pure flame aspires;
Downward flow not the altar fires;
And skylarks soar
Up where the earth-mists vex no more.
Now loose your hold
From her white garment’s spotless fold,
And let her pass—
While both hearts murmur, “Alas! alas!”