Impressions: A Book of Verse/Once More
ONCE MORE
THE rustling pine-trees overhead.
I What do they say to me?
Once more I part with one now dead,
Beside the dashing sea.
Once more we stand there, hand-in-hand,
Upon that lonely shore;
Hopes break as waves upon the sand,
And love must live no more.
Once more I gaze in those dark eyes
That seem the world to me;
Once more my heart awakes and sighs
For what can never be.