Poetry Archives

I.

    Lips that are met in love’s
      Devotion sweet,
While parting lovers passionately greet,
And earth through heaven’s arc more swiftly moves—
    Oh, will they be less dear
    Within a year?

II.

    Eyes in whose shadow-spell
      Far off I read
That which to lovers taking loving heed
Dear women’s eyes full soon and plainly tell—
    Oh, will you give such cheer
    This time a year?

III.

    Behold! the dark year goes,
      Nor will reveal
Aught of its purpose, if for woe or weal,
Swift as a stream that o’er the mill-weir flows:
    Mayhap the end draws near
    Within the year!

IV.

    Yet, darling, once more touch
      Those lips to mine.
Set on my life that talisman divine;
Absence, new friends, I fear not overmuch——
    Even Death, should he appear
    Within the year!