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Could we dig
up this long-buried treasure,
Were it worth the
pleasure,
We never could learn love's song,
We are
parted too long
Could the passionate past that is
fled
Call back its dead,
Could we live it all over
again,
Were it worth the pain!
I remember we
used to meet
By an ivied seat,
And you warbled
each pretty word
With the air of a bird;
And
your voice had a quaver in it,
Just like a linnet,
And shook, as the blackbird's throat
With its last
big note;
And your eyes, they were green and grey
Like an April day,
But lit into amethyst
When I
stooped and kissed;
And your mouth, it would
never smile
For a long, long while,
Then it
rippled all over with laughter
Five minutes after.
You were always afraid of a shower,
Just like a
flower:
I remember you started and ran
When the
rain began.
I remember I never could catch you,
For no one could match you,
You had wonderful,
luminous, fleet,
Little wings to your feet.
I
remember your hair - did I tie it?
For it always ran
riot -
Like a tangled sunbeam of gold:
These
things are old.
I remember so well the room,
And the lilac bloom
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain;
And the colour of your
gown,
It was amber-brown,
And two yellow satin
bows
From the shoulders rose.
And the
handkerchief of French lace
Which you held to your
face-
Had a small tear left a stain?
Or was it the
rain?
On your hand as it waved adieu
There
were veins of blue;
In your voice as it said good-bye
Was a petulant cry,
"You have only wasted your
life."
(Ah, that was the knife!)
When I rushed
through the garden gate
It was all too late.
Could we live it over again,
Were it worth the pain,
Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its
dead!
Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love,
for your sake,
It will break in music, I know,
Poets' hearts break so.
But strange that I was
not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory
cell
God's heaven and hell.
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